


miracles in december

by choi_kimmy



Series: in any version of reality, i'll still choose you [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Bucket List, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Light-Hearted, Misunderstanding, Strangers to Lovers, christmas 2019, happy ending of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choi_kimmy/pseuds/choi_kimmy
Summary: “Is it just me or is the holiday season making you eccentric?”“It’s Christmas, Nat. It’s the season to bejolly.”“There’snothingjolly about this season. And isn’t that phrase from a song?”In other words: when an innocent misunderstanding brings Natasha Romanoff into the life of Steve Rogers, she learns about the value of family and the joy of Christmas and love.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: in any version of reality, i'll still choose you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540324
Comments: 151
Kudos: 339





	1. it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to **Tasya** and **Beck** :)
> 
> Happy December, aka the best month of the year! Because I'm literally crazy over this festive season, I decided to start writing a Christmas AU to satisfy my own crazy plot bunnies, and as a gift for the fandom. My deadline for this entire fic would of course, be on the 25th of December, so here's to hoping I can churn out all those words in this one month period. Enjoy! 
> 
> This fic is loosely inspired by While You Were Sleeping (1995) - clearly I have an affinity with Sandra Bullock's movies.

The first hint marking the start of the festive season comes in the form of Christmas songs playing mid-November in the small, cosy, independent bookstore Natasha works in. The second she hears the melody echoing around the four walls, Natasha lets out a low grumble, her hands stilling on the spine of the book she'd just arranged on the shelf.

"Are you serious?" She asks loudly, directing her question to the person responsible for the playlist that morning - Maria Hill. Natasha hears an ensuing laughter coming from the back, an instinct telling her that the owner of the bookstore is doing this on purpose just to spite her. 

"I'm dead serious and you know it, Miss Grinch." Maria hollers back as a response - the redhead could almost see the huge grin on her face as she said that sentence. 

"But it's only November." Natasha yells back, though not at all in malice. She just isn't one who would place Christmas on such a high pedestal, nor understand those who would be possessed by the ghost of Christmas spirits. It isn't that she hates or dislikes the holiday season either; she just doesn't see the point of making this celebration into something so huge. Jesus' birthday is only for one day, not 6 weeks, Natasha sighs, it’s a simple calculation.

Maria's response comes quickly. "Don't be so bitter!" She snickers loudly. "I could have started playing my Christmas playlist the second Halloween ended, and you know it!"

“There’s hardly any difference!” Natasha returns easily, referring to the natural sense of festivity she’d gotten in the air as she walked along buildings and other shoplots on the way to work each day. She resumes arranging books on the shelf just as Maria emerges from the back of the store. Her employer-slash-best friend makes her way to her grumpy employee, dropping a Santa hat on her head in one swift motion.

“Hey!” Natasha whirls around with a playful roll of her eye. She is met with a huge grin plastered on Maria’s face.

She shrugs nonchalantly. “By order from the North Pole, Santa’s elf is to wear a Santa hat from this day thenceforth.”

“Does that mean _you_ are Santa?” Natasha asks, a little bit amused - just a little. She adjusts the hat so that it fits better, watching as Maria throws her hands in the air, still grinning. “I am whoever you want me to be.”

“Jesus Christ,” Natasha stifles a laugh. “Is it just me or is the holiday season making you eccentric?”

Maria turns in her heels, her tone light and teasing. “It’s Christmas, Nat. It’s the season to be _jolly_.”

“There’s _nothing_ jolly about this season. And isn’t that from a song?” Natasha shakes her head, but Maria merely replies with a single laughter, disappearing behind the counter. Before she could resume doing her work, Natasha hears the little dingle of the bell signifying a customer who’d just walked into the store. She turns her head to the side, her face beaming in reflex when she sees who it is.

“Hey, stranger.” Natasha greets him warmly, to which the customer grins when he meets her eyes. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Ah, you know.” He shrugs. “Been busy with work and all that.”

Even Maria looks up from the accounts spread in front of her, a smile gracing her face as the customer gives her a curt wave. “How are you, James?”

The customer - James Barnes - gives her a polite smile. “I’m good, Maria. I had some spare time today so I decided to drop by to collect that book I ordered.”

“Is that _all_ you came to do?” Maria says in a tone that causes Natasha to groan inwardly. Her friend is at it again, she mentally thinks as she makes her way behind the counter to retrieve the book she’d wrapped up for him two days ago.

James looks more confused than he is amused at the underlying meaning of Maria’s question. “Y-yeah?” He answers in a tone of uncertainty, to which Natasha interjects from the side. “Please just ignore her.” 

Thankfully, Maria doesn’t press on, merely darting a smirk in between both individuals near her vicinity as Natasha hands him the package. “Here you go, James.”

“Thanks, Natasha.” He hesitates as he takes the package from her. “Hey, you told me before that you did ballet for some years, right?”

She nods, still smiling. James continues sheepishly. “I was wondering if I could get some information about ballet schools. My niece seems to have taken an interest in ballet and well…”

It takes her a few seconds to realise what James is trying to ask from her. She dares not look at Maria - Natasha is two hundred percent sure of what is going through in her head. Still, she plays it cool, her voice betraying none of her thoughts. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind sharing what I know. Are you free later tonight? I’ll be closing the store at 7 today.”

James nods, smiling. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll swing by later. We could grab something to bite if you’re hungry.”

Natasha simply nods as a response, keeping the smile on her face as James turns to leave. “Bye.” She calls out, to which he returns with a _see you later._

The second James steps out from the store, Natasha wags a finger at her friend’s direction. “Do not start -”

But Maria ignores her briskly, exclaiming loudly. “That was _such_ an _excuse_ to ask you out for _dinner_.”

“Maria.” She warns.

Again, Maria ignores her. “Did you see the way he fumbled trying to ask you out?”

“Maria, I swear to God,” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “He just wants to obtain some information about ballet for his niece, didn’t you hear the man?”

“Over _dinner_.” Her employer states, then sighs. “I don’t know why you’re so defensive. He’s cute and single. _You’re_ single.” She gives her a pointed look. “And you’re an attractive woman so you honestly shouldn’t be surprised that men may be _interested_ in you.”

“I’m _not_ defensive.” Natasha replies without a pause. “You’re just reading too much into all of this. He’s just a friend.”

Maria doesn’t reply, her smile turning into a slight frown. The sudden silence stretching between them is enough for Natasha to heave a sigh, knowing what is going through her friend’s mind. She looks at Maria right in the eyes, as if to assure her that everything is alright. “It’s not about...it’s not about _that_.”

Maria’s expression softens, the worry in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. She opens her mouth to say something, but Natasha silences her with a wave of her hand in the air. “I’m really okay, Maria. It’s been years.”

Moving around the counter to retrieve some new stocks from the box on the floor, Natasha huffs, carrying a stack of teen literature at once. “This is the last box, isn’t it?” She attempts to divert the topic to something else, but Maria grabs hold of her arm gently, pulling her back before she could flit elsewhere. Lifting the books away from Natasha, Maria places them on the counter, before curling one hand gently around Natasha’s wrist. “Look...I know you don’t like talking about it…”

“You’re right.” Natasha deadpans, eyes not quite meeting her best friend’s. “Which is why we _shouldn’t_ be talking about it.”

“Alright.” Maria complies in agreement, then adds. “But that doesn’t mean I should stop worrying about you.”

“I’m not saying you should.” Natasha puts in gently, placing her hand over Maria’s. “I’m saying you don’t have to, because I’m fine. Really.”

Maria nods. “Okay, Nat. If you insist. But you have to promise me that when the time comes, you would...you know, give it a try again.”

At that, Natasha nods. Part of her did that to assure her best friend, to comfort her that there is still a possibility that she wouldn’t spend her life moping around and possibly dying alone. “Maria, when and if the time comes, and when and if I find the right person...I would. You have my word.”

Maria grins, seemingly satisfied with her answer. Before she returns to looking at her accounts though, she gives her one final smirk. “And you’re already sure it isn’t going to be Mr. Barnes?”

Natasha laughs at that, avoiding her question easily. “If you’re so smitten, why don’t _you_ ask him out?”

Maria looks positively horrified at that suggestion, and Natasha’s laughter rang louder in the empty bookstore. With that, she finally edges away, taking back the books on the counter in her hands as Natasha makes her way to her work station. She doesn’t dwell on Maria’s words, even though they remain lingering at the back of her mind.

* * *

A little past 7, Natasha prepares to close the bookstore. Sure enough, when she exits the bookstore to lock up, James is already there waiting for her. He flashes her a grin, one hand outstretched. "Do you need any help?"

Natasha shakes her head politely. "Nah, I'm good."

He smiles, hands in his pocket. Once Natasha finishes locking up and faces him, James asks. "Shall we? Are you hungry?"

"Not quite." Natasha answers a little bit too quickly, noticing the slump of disappointment in his shoulders. Sighing inwardly and remembering Maria's words, Natasha adds a beat after. "But...I mean, we could just have coffee or something. I know a place around the corner."

"Coffee at this hour?" James muses, as they begin to walk down the pathway. "Are you planning to stay awake for the night or something?"

Natasha chuckles. "Caffeine doesn't actually affect me. They have brownies if you're not keen on coffee."

"I'm good with brownies." James laughs, silence ensuing after that. Natasha is the one to break it after that, trying to ease the awkwardness in the air. “James, can I be frank with you?"

Even in the semi-lighted walkway, Natasha could see the blush on James' face the second he hears that. "Yeah, of course."

"I'm assuming this," She waves her hands about, trying to find the right word to say. " _arrangement_ , isn't solely because of your niece wanting to learn ballet. Am I right?"

She'd expected him to deny, or at least be defensive about his intentions - but James simply lets out a chuckle. "You're intuitive, aren't you?"

Natasha shrugs. "I sort of am programmed to be like that."

"Programmed?"

"It's a long story, really. You wouldn't want to know."

James nods, respecting the obvious wall Natasha had put up about her past. "Well, you're not wrong. But whatever it is you're thinking, I don't think you're right either."

She smirks. "Thought so. Care to enlighten me?"

James rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly. "Well, this is a little awkward but," He starts, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "I have a friend who I'm trying to -"

Whatever James intended to say flies away with the wind the second Natasha lets out an involuntary yelp - everything that happens next passes in a frenzy of moment as she feels the harsh tug of someone pulling the strap of her handbag from her shoulder. Before Natasha could wrap her head on what has just occurred, she is shoved harshly to the side, colliding into James in a split second. 

“Are you okay?” James asks urgently, to which Natasha only manages to nod, eyes widening in shock. She regains her balance, heart racing a mile. When both of them look up, the culprit had already sprinted away with her handbag, and before she could even register what is happening, James has taken off, chasing after the snatch thief without hesitation.

"James!" She yells a second later, breaking into an immediate run once she regains her senses. Natasha feels the increasing panic rising within her as she realises where the snatch thief is heading towards, and inevitably where James is _also_ heading towards - the main road. In that heat of adrenaline that clouds James' observation, Natasha sees it first; a car rounding the corner at a speed that sends her heart lurching into her throat. Frantically, she yells as loudly as she could, hoping that he would hear her. "James, _watch-_ "

She hears it first before she sees it, and all Natasha could do is to scream. Her eyes squeeze shut in reflex; the sound of brakes and tires screeching on the road resonates loudly in the otherwise quiet, November night. 

James didn’t get to finish his sentence that night.

* * *

Natasha has been awake for more than 24 hours - her heart still pounding, her entire body still trembling in a shock that doesn't ebb away even though she'd been taking deep and slow breaths - a futile attempt, clearly.

It's been a little over an hour since she had arrived in the hospital, a little over two hours since James had been sent to the E.R. She’d gone to the police station to give her statement. Luckily for her, Natasha had kept her phone in her pocket, which meant that the only important item in her handbag was her purse. She’d cancelled her credit cards as soon as she’d calmed down, before rushing to New York Hospital to check on James’ condition.

Since then, Natasha has been anxiously waiting for any sort of update of his condition, guilt tearing through every fibre of her being as tears start to well on her eyelids - haunting thoughts loom over her head repeatedly; if she hadn't asked James to find her after work hours ago, he wouldn't have been caught in this situation. If she hadn't distracted him by asking what his true intention was on their way to the coffee shop, they would probably have been more vigilant of their surroundings, would probably have noticed the thief tailing them from afar. 

She sucks in a sharp breath. This was all her fault.

As she blinks back harsh tears, Natasha is inconsolable. The nurses come and go without bothering her, and she yearns so desperately for someone to tell her that James is alright. Thousands of thoughts are floating in her mind, causing her to sink in both fear and despair. She could barely breathe in that state of disarray that Natasha misses the nurse calling out James' name twice - until she finally hears it, and it snaps her from her reverie. She almost leaps up from her chair, rushing to the nurse, her eyes swollen and red. 

"Are you James Barnes' family?" She asks, and Natasha nods uncaringly, wanting to know how James is doing. Seeing her in such a state, the nurse doesn't even question who she is to James. "Mr. Barnes is stable, but he is to remain in the ICU for further observation. It might...take some time for him to wake up." She breaks the news to Natasha without a pause, and the redhead is instantly overwhelmed with that piece of information. 

The nurse passes a transparent bag to Natasha, and she recognises the belongings in it as James', including his wallet, phone, watch and tattered clothing. "It's best to contact his parents, Ms…"

"Romanoff." She says, feeling the weight of the bag on her hands - the responsibility of what is to happen next. 

"Are you his immediate family, Ms. Romanoff?" The nurse quirks an eyebrow, to which Natasha shakes her head slowly. "No, I'm just his -"

The nurse doesn't seem interested in listening to her remaining sentence, opting instead to show her a consent form. She glosses through the words with a lump in her throat, her heart pounding madly beneath her skin. 

"If the need arises, we may need to perform surgery on him. Unfortunately, since you are not an immediate family member, you are not authorised to sign the consent form which means…"

"I'll...I'll contact his mother." Natasha offers without thinking. Without pausing to even think about the fact that she has no idea who James' family is, nor their contact numbers. She could only pray that his phone is not passcode locked.

* * *

“You look like a train-wreck.” 

The next morning, when she hears the familiar voice behind her, Natasha smiles on natural instinct. She turns her head to find Maria looking at her, obvious worry and exhaustion in her eyes. “You scared the living heck out of me. The first thing I woke up to is a text from you saying you’re in the hospital.”

“Sorry about that, I should have been more specific.” Natasha apologises with a sigh, just as the nurse from last night stops by to check his vitals and readings. Their eyes meet, and Natasha manages to give her a smile. The nurse smiles back, her expression kind and understanding, as if to tell her to _hang on, he’ll be okay._ “I thought you should know why I can’t come into work today.”

“Were you here the entire night?” Maria asks, and Natasha nods.

Maria stands behind Natasha, looking over at James’ unconscious being, her expression sombre - to think that she’d just seen James walking into her bookstore just a day ago. She places her hands on Natasha’s shoulders, trying to unwind the knots in them. In an attempt to lighten up the mood and to ease the tension in the air, Maria jokes, “So how’s your future husband doing?”

That seemed to do the trick, for Natasha begins to chuckle lowly. She shakes her head in amusement. “He’s stable for now. I managed to contact his sister, so she’s coming over later with his mother.” She answers Maria’s question, then decides to add as an afterthought, as going along with her joke - “you _do_ know that he _hasn’t_ proposed, right?”

Maria snickers, right at the same time the nurse turns to both of them, her eyes somewhat glistening. “He’s going to be your fiance?” 

Natasha shakes her head. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just -”

But Maria clamps a hand over Natasha’s mouth to silence her. “Not _yet_.” She says pointedly to tease her friend further, and Natasha simply swats her hand away, laughing. “She’s waiting for him to pop the question. She thinks it’ll be during Christmas, or during the New Year’s.”

“Oh my god.” Natasha covers her face into her hands, a little bit embarrassed by the blatant lies Maria is spewing from her mouth. “ _Maria._ ”

The nurse seems to be swooning, even though part of her expression shows obvious sympathy for Natasha. “He’ll be alright, Ms. Romanoff. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, Ms. Foy.” Natasha says, her tone genuine, finding no energy to correct the nurse from thinking that she truly is James’ girlfriend. She leaves the conversation at that as the nurse gives her one last smile before moving to the next bed. Once she’s out of earshot, Natasha slaps Maria’s arm repeatedly. “Stop doing that!” She half hisses, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her lips. 

Maria merely laughs, clutching onto her arm as she edges away from the redhead. “At least someone is finally smiling.”

Natasha’s expression softens, wanting to say something in response to that, but she decides against it in the end. Instead, she settles for a question. “Don’t you need to open your bookstore?”

“So eager to get rid of me, huh?” Maria winks, to which Natasha simply rolls her eyes. “I’m leaving now. But please update me if anything happens, and seriously, go home and shower.”

Natasha promises she would, as soon as his sister arrives. Maria takes her words, and leave soon after. Unsure of what to do next, Natasha decides to get herself some hot chocolate from the vending machine, her appetite weighed down by the guilt she still feels etching across her heart. She goes back into the ICU fifteen minutes after, and finds herself halting in her steps when he realises that James has gotten company while she was away.

There’s a man huddled beside his bedside - Natasha quirks an eyebrow in mild curiosity, wondering who he is, until he senses her presence and turns around to meet her lingering gaze. The man stands at once, and that is when Natasha gets a proper look at him - sandy blonde hair, possibly around the same age as James. She feels a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she realises how ridiculously handsome (and coughs-well-built-coughs) this man is. 

Natasha clears her throat, quickly pushing away those thoughts from her mind. “Hello, uh…”

The man seems to also snap out from his reverie at her voice. He extends a hand out for her to shake. “Steve Rogers. Um, I’m Bucky’s best friend.”

“Bucky?” Natasha asks, accepting his hand with a light shake, and realises two seconds after that Bucky is James. “ _Oh!_ You mean James.”

The man - Steve - nods his head, a tinge of red on the tip of his ears. “You must be Ms. Romanoff, I would presume. Becky told me that you were the one who called for the ambulance and stayed with him throughout the night. I don’t know what else to say except thank you.” 

“Please, call me Natasha. And that was hardly anything. He wouldn’t even be...” Natasha lets her sentence trail away, and without warning, tears suddenly begin to well on her eyelids. Feeling the guilt stabbing onto her heart, Natasha is hit by the harsh reminder that James is in this situation _because_ of her. Natasha turns around, shielding her teary eyes from Steve. “Sorry, please excuse me.” She mumbles quickly, walking away without waiting for Steve’s reaction. 

Seeing the redhead tear up catches Steve by surprise. He hesitates to go after her, clearly not knowing what to do, nor did he comprehend what had just transpired in front of his eyes. 

“It must be difficult for her.” A voice interjects his thoughts, and Steve looks up to meet the sympathising look of the nurse holding onto James’ charts. She heaves a sigh, glancing at James. “Imagine seeing your future fiance like this during the holiday season.”

Steve’s eyes bulges open in shock, his jaw dropping. He is almost sure that his ears were playing tricks on him - but when he stares at the nurse and sees how there is not an ounce of playfulness or pretence on her face, Steve sputters out instead, “H-her _what_?”

“Future fiance.” The nurse raises an eyebrow - as if judging him for not knowing, _especially_ since she’d heard him saying that he is James’ best friend. “She’s his girlfriend.”

Steve is too shocked to reply, hundreds of questions flooding his mind all at once - Bucky has a girlfriend and he never told him? But then again he _did_ only return from London just a little over a month ago, Steve frowns, maybe Bucky didn’t have the chance to tell him yet. 

The nurse disappears to finish her remaining duties in the ICU, while Steve continues to reel in the thought of how Bucky had kept something this important from him. The nurse did say Natasha’s his _future_ fiancee - so would that mean that he had been planning on proposing to her? That their relationship had gotten _that_ far that he had been thinking of _marrying_ her?

Steve gasps - and he knew _nothing_ about this? He darts a look at Bucky’s sleeping figure, completely in disbelief that his best friend would keep something this important, this life-changing from him. Why did his best friend decide to hide this from him? Why would he - and then it _suddenly_ hits him, and Steve eases his expression automatically, thoughts running through his mind - what if Bucky didn’t tell him because he had reasons not to?

Just like that, Steve has a feeling he knows what the reasons are. 

“Idiot,” He sighs, looking at his best friend. “You didn’t have to think that far. You know I’d be happy for you regardless, Buck.”

Steve is met with silence, of course, and he slumps back against his chair, eyes cast on the ceiling above him. He doesn’t know how long he’d been staring above until Steve hears returning footsteps heading towards Bucky’s bed - when he straightens his back, he sees the familiar redhead halting just at the foot of his bed. Steve stands, taking a step towards her. 

“Sorry about earlier.” Natasha looks lethargic, for obvious reasons, eyes still swollen from the tears she had just shed and instantly, Steve feels an overwhelming urge to protect her, to care for her well-being - because if this is his best friend’s girlfriend and possibly even his future fiance, then it goes without saying that she is automatically _his_ friend, too.

“Go home, Natasha.” He tells her kindly, his tone warmer than before. “I’ll be here until Becky arrives.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks in confirmation, even though she is starting to feel the effects of staying up all night, clearly desperate to get some sleep. 

Steve nods, giving her a smile. “Don’t worry, I got him. He’ll be fine, but I could give you updates about his condition if you want me to.”

“Yes, please.” Natasha says without thinking, already reaching into her pocket to retrieve her phone. They exchange numbers then, just as she heaves another sigh - this time of relief, knowing that at least there is someone familiar to James by his side. “Steve, right? I’m really glad you’re here.”

He flashes her a lopsided grin, and Natasha finds an automatic smile gracing her face. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, honestly. Do take care, Natasha. Bucky wouldn’t want you to worry over him like this.”

“I suppose he wouldn’t.” Natasha agrees easily, not thinking too deep into the implication behind Steve’s words. She stifles a yawn, embarrassingly looking away after that - but Steve maintains the smile on his lips, gesturing for her to go. “I’m serious, go rest. I’ll contact you if anything happens.”

“Thank you, Steve.” She says, backing away slowly. “If _anything_ at all crops up, please -”

“Natasha,” Steve starts again in the most assuring voice he could muster. “I promise I’ll be in touch.”

At that, she finally nods, giving him one final sheepish smile before turning in her heels and leaving the ICU. Steve merely watches her retreating back, crossing his arms together before turning to look at Bucky again.

He leans forward, just a little closer to his best friend. And then Steve whispers with a hint of tease in his tone, “You lucky son of a gun.” 

Much later, when Rebecca arrives with a clearly worried Winnifred - Bucky’s mother, Steve escorts his sister outside of the ICU to share what he knows about Bucky’s condition. Generally calm, Rebecca listens attentively, not saying much until Steve finishes his sentence. When the nurse comes by asking for her to sign the consent form for surgery, Rebecca directs her to their mother, who signs without thinking twice. 

Then, Rebecca remembers Natasha, the woman who had called her at the wee hours of morning, informing her of what happened to her brother. She peers down the hallway, wondering if Natasha is still around, until Steve interrupts her, knowing exactly what she is thinking about.

“If you’re looking for Natasha, I told her to go home.” He tells her. “She did stay up the entire night at the waiting area, yknow.”

Rebecca gives Steve a small smile. She assumes Steve has met Natasha earlier, before she arrived at the hospital. “Ah, you spoke to her? I wanted to thank her in person. I mean, she didn’t have to do all that for James.”

The bemused expression growing on Steve’s face is enough for Rebecca to frown a little. “What?” She asks with an eyebrow raised. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“She kinda _has_ to do that.” Steve puts in gently, and a few seconds pass between them before Rebecca drops her jaw in realisation. “You mean…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods nonchalantly. “I assume you didn’t know either?”

Rebecca just groans. “Why am I not surprised? He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Apparently it’s pretty solid, too.” Steve continues without missing a beat. “On their way to an engagement, it seems.”

“ _What?_ ” Rebecca’s eyes are blown wide, her forehead creasing in surprise. “ _How_ do you even know all this? Did Natasha tell you?”

“Nah,” Steve shakes his head. “The nurse did.”

“The _what_?”

“The nurse.” He chuckles, the irony of the situation not lost - of all people who would deliver such joyous news to them, it just had to be a total stranger and a complete outsider. “Becky, I was just as surprised as you when I found out earlier. I guess Bucky had been awfully low profile because he wanted to...yknow, make sure everything is _right_ before he pops the news to all of us.”

Rebecca sighs, understanding the underlying meaning of his sentence at once. “Steve, you know it isn’t your -”

He waves a hand to silence her, even though Steve is still smiling. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. But you know how your brother is. He tends to put everyone first, before himself.” He softens his expression. “Maybe he thought that he was doing me a favour.”

“Yeah, but to keep something as _huge_ as this from us is quite unsettling. I mean, an engagement. _Marriage._ ” Rebecca crosses her arms together. “So if Natasha comes by later, are we supposed to act like we already know, or not?”

Steve takes a few seconds to think, deciding in the end to respect Bucky’s decision. “I think we’ll know, eventually. When the time is right. It would be nice to hear it from either of them directly, wouldn’t it?”

Rebecca relents with a sigh and two hands in the air. “Alright, alright. But mom’s going to want to know who Natasha is to James. And I’m not going to lie.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Steve shrugs. “Just, tell her not to bring it up unless Natasha does herself.”

“Yes, sir.” Rebecca briskly says, and prepares to go into the ICU again - since only two people are allowed in at once, Steve stays outside, finding solace in one of the empty seats nearby. And then, he allows his thoughts to wander - there are many things he wants to ask Natasha, if he is to be honest with himself. He wants to know how they met, how Bucky asked her out for the first time, how long they’ve been together. But he also knows that, like what he’d told Rebecca, it isn’t his place to pry unless Bucky (or Natasha in this case) brings it up first. 

So for now, even if Steve is extremely curious of everything, he decides to keep what he knows as a secret first. He’ll soon be able to know everything, anyway - when the time is right. For now, he is perfectly content with just being happy for his best friend, that at the very least, unlike him, Bucky has found happiness, and a chance for a happily ever after.

* * *


	2. it's the most wonderful time of the year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of milkshakes, thanksgiving and a christmas bucket list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading! :)

The next time Steve meets Natasha is the evening of the same day. She misses meeting James’ mother and Rebecca by an hour, while Steve remains steadfast in his promise to keep his best friend company. When he sees her entering the ICU, he waves lightly. 

“Slept well?” He asks politely, to which she nods while returning his smile. 

“What did I miss?” Natasha then asks, glancing at James briefly before meeting Steve’s eyes again. 

“His mother and sister.” Steve answers slowly, trying to gauge for a reaction - surely Natasha would be curious to meet Bucky’s family, if they are already in such a serious stage in their relationship? The first thing he sees flashing across her eyes are that of underlying sadness, of something he can’t quite pinpoint, but it looks almost like guilt and relief mixed together. He frowns, though he puts it behind him when she speaks again.

“How are they faring?” Natasha asks quietly, eyes wavering.

Immediately, Steve could hear the worry in her tone. He thinks that he should ease her mind a little, so Steve says as brightly as he could, “They’re alright. You shouldn’t worry about them. The Barnes family is pretty tough.”

Natasha nods, mentally sighing in relief. “That’s good.”

Silence lapses between them after that, as Steve returns to just staring at Bucky’s sleeping figure. Natasha fidgets with her hands, not knowing what to do or say, until she decides to leave the ICU quietly, without bidding goodbye to Steve - visiting hours is almost over, anyway. Her intention was to only drop by for a few minutes to check up on James for ease of her mind - he definitely seems to be in good hands, and that there is no reason for her to stay with James’ best friend is right there with him. 

She barely takes three steps out of the ICU when she hears Steve calling her name. Whipping her head around, Natasha quirks an eyebrow in surprise; she didn’t expect he would even realise she had gone out, let alone follow her into the hallway. What comes out of his mouth next makes her even more surprised than she already is:

“Do you want to eat dinner together?” Steve asks, hoping he isn’t too forward with his question - he just wants to get to know her better, given the circumstances and what would be the future. There is also something about her that Steve can't quite tell yet, but he brushes that feeling aside and takes it as him just wanting to be friends with her.

“You mean like...now?” Natasha asks, her tone uncertain and very much confused. She studies him warily, wondering what his intention is behind suddenly asking her out for dinner - Natasha decides a moment later, after realising the somewhat hopeful look he is giving her, that Steve probably just wants to find someone to eat dinner with. She shrugs the thoughts away.

“If you’re free, of course.” Steve adds.

Natasha gulps, swallowing the lump on her throat - why is she even nervous for goodness sake? “Uh, I...sure, I guess.”

Steve’s face breaks into a natural smile upon hearing that. If Natasha is aware that her heart is suddenly doing somersaults out of nowhere, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she smooths her expression and continues. “But you’ll have to decide because I’m terrible at making decisions.”

He chuckles, one hand against his chest. “Well, I do have a place in mind and it’s nearby. That is if you are up for milkshakes. This diner has the best milkshakes _ever_.”

Seeing the way his eyes had lit up at the mere mention of milkshakes amuses Natasha to no end, but she keeps her cool and merely nods. Now that Steve has that little glint of excitement on his face, it would be hard for her to say no to his suggestion. “Really?” She teases. “We’ll have to see about that, because _I_ for one know where you can find the _best_ milkshakes.”

He wiggles his eyebrows playfully, walking in step with her as they both begin to head for the exit. “Is that a challenge, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Oh no, Mr. Rogers.” Natasha shakes her head, returning his tease. “I’m _positive_ over what I said. There’s literally no challenge.”

“You’ll probably have second thoughts after dinner tonight.” Steve counters gently. “Mark my words.”

She simply laughs.

* * *

Natasha had been slightly worried that going to dinner with Steve would turn out to be awkward, especially since she just met him that morning. Added to the fact that she knew _nothing_ about him except that he is James’ best friend. To her surprise, Natasha finds that being around him had so far been oddly comfortable, conversations between them flowing naturally as they walk towards the diner Steve had mentioned. 

It’s the littlest things that she notices, but Natasha discovers that not only does Steve possess pleasant mannerism, he is also (surprise, surprise) a complete _gentleman_ , making sure she walked beside or just slightly in front of him, and had no hesitation to hold the door open for her as she entered the diner.

Natasha is quietly impressed - just a _teeny, tiny_ bit - that she finds herself with heated cheeks when their eyes meet. “So, what do you recommend here?” She coughs, trying to hide the jittering nerves building within her as she averts her gaze onto the menu instead. 

Steve is more than happy to help, giving her a few options and his personal commentary after making sure she isn’t vegan. Natasha settles for their signature cheeseburger in the end, and tells him, with a playful glint in her eyes, to choose the flavour of her milkshake for her. He obliges with a returning grin.

Once they’d placed their orders, Steve starts again, with a question that Natasha has seen coming from a mile away. He probably had been waiting for the right moment to ask her this, Natasha guesses. “So, how did you meet Bucky?”

She thinks it is because James is the only bridge between them, so Natasha doesn’t mind it that much. “Oh, he’s a regular customer in the bookstore I work in.” 

He hums, clearly intrigued. “I honestly didn’t know Bucky reads.”

A chortle escapes Natasha before she even realises. When she does, Natasha covers one hand over her mouth in mild embarrassment. “Sorry, it’s just that...you’re his best friend.”

Steve doesn’t seem to take offense at that, instead he merely chuckles. There’s a smile of amusement on his lips that Natasha notices, but doesn’t point out. “I guess he picked up that habit recently.” He says, alluding to his own belief that the only reason why Bucky had gone to a bookstore was because of _her._

Natasha misses that implication, of course. She shrugs, propping her elbow against the table so that she could rest her chin on her hand. “How about you?” She returns his question easily. “How did you meet James?”

“Best friends since we were practically in diapers.” Steve flashes her a small grin. “Family friends, too. Being best friends is an understatement to be honest, we’re like brothers.”

Natasha just smiles. “That must be really nice.” She says, slight hint of envy in her tone.

“Wait,” Steve’s grin fades just a little. “Bucky has never mentioned about me to you?”

His question is, of course, borne out of innocence and genuine curiosity, but confusion strikes her nonetheless. The first thing that flits into her mind is one Natasha doesn’t say out loud, repressing the words before they spill from their mouth - _why would James ever talk about him to her?_

Instead, she drums her fingers on the table, stalling some time as Natasha thinks of a reply that wouldn’t sound offensive or ignorant. “Well, he has never gone into the details about his family or close friends, to be honest.”

Steve is speechless. He has the urge to ask her just how long they’ve been seeing each other - why was Bucky so secretive? Shouldn’t Natasha know, as his girlfriend? Steve opens his mouth to say something, but clamps it shut at the very last second - no, Natasha doesn’t know that he knows, and it doesn’t sit right with him to bring their relationship up when they haven’t even made it public yet. 

He leans back in his seat, opting to switch topics in the end. “So how are you celebrating Christmas?” 

Before Natasha could answer him, the waitress comes by their table with their milkshakes. She gives him a knowing look, noticing the glint of anticipation in his eyes. “The moment of truth.” He says lightheartedly, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. Natasha chuckles, more amused than necessary as she brings the glass nearer to her. “Let’s see if this lives up to its reputation.” 

Completely aware that Steve is looking at her intently and waiting for a response, Natasha takes a few careful sips, savouring its taste. She smacks her lips together, trying to find her words, but all that she finds is how this entire situation - _I mean, seriously, a discord over milkshakes_? - is borderline hilarious.

“It’s good.” She plainly says in the end.

“But?” Steve asks hesitantly.

“There’s no buts.” Natasha puts in gently, taking another sip. She doesn’t tell him that there actually _is,_ but she’ll let him have it this time. There’s just something about the way Steve had beamed at her that made her relent this easily - Natasha has no idea why, though.

“Anyway, about Christmas.” Steve switches back the topic effortlessly. “What do you have in plans for the holidays?”

Ah, there it is, Natasha thinks. She shakes her head, knowing instantly that her answer would probably disappoint him - Steve does look like someone who would _really_ enjoy the holiday season. “Nothing, actually.”

His reaction is immediate and as expected, a frown etching across his face. “What do you mean nothing?” 

Natasha shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m actually rather indifferent to Christmas.”

“Sorry?” Natasha doesn’t have to look at him to hear the disbelief in his tone. She thinks it best to elaborate, so she does exactly that. “One, I’m Russian.” 

Steve blinks in surprise at that revelation, though he tries to mask it with no more than his widening eyes. “Two, I’m alone.” She pauses, and noting his confusion, Natasha elaborates. “I’ve got no family here.”

Steve’s expression softens at once, though hundreds of questions flood into his mind again. Does this mean that her relationship with Bucky hasn’t even been a year yet - he wouldn’t have celebrated Christmas before without her now, would he? He rakes his memory for any hint of Bucky ever having a girlfriend during the last Christmas he’d came down to New York - Steve finds none of that indication. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

"It's fine.” She waves his sympathy away, giving him a smile and wishing he would stop looking at her as though his puppy just died. “I usually just go over to my best friend's but she isn't going to be around this year."

“So you’re not...does this mean you’re not planning on having a Christmas dinner this year?” 

“I guess.” Natasha shrugs uncaringly. “You don’t have to look at me like that, by the way.”

Steve frowns a little. “Like what?”

She sighs. “Like I’m the saddest person on earth because I don’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with. I’m completely fine with being alone.”

The crease in his forehead deepens. It hits Steve just then that with Bucky lying in the hospital bed, unsure of when he would wake up, she would _really_ be alone this year. Just like that, the words stumbled out of Steve’s mouth before he could even stop himself. 

“Why don’t you celebrate Christmas with us this year?” He says casually, as though he didn’t just invite someone he’d met in less than 24 hours to an annual family dinner. “‘ _We’_ being with the Barnes. I’m sure they would love to have you over this time.” 

Natasha just stares at him as though he’d gone mad, her gaze so intense that Steve begins to blush. “Uh, I mean, if you’re comfortable...if you want.” He finishes lamely.

“Steve…” She begins slowly, unsurely. Deep down, Natasha knows that Steve is probably genuine when he invited her to join them for their Christmas dinner this year. In that short period of time she got to know him, Natasha is already sure (don’t ask her why she thinks that way though) that he probably doesn’t have any other intention other than to make sure she isn’t alone during the holidays. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

But Steve doesn’t give in so easily. “Why don’t you take some time to think it through? Christmas is still a month away. You might change your mind by then.”

“Maybe.” Natasha chuckles, though a little doubtful she would. “I have a question though, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Steve gestures for her to continue, still smiling. 

“How’s Christmas usually like for you and James?” She asks, curiosity gnawing in her heart. Christmas with Maria had oftentimes been simple, since her family is small.

Natasha sees it almost at once - the sparkle, the little twinkle in Steve's eyes as he smiles at her. It makes _her_ want to smile, too.

"Christmas for us is really about celebrating together. Going for Christmas shopping together, decorating the house and tree together, visiting Santa Claus in malls...don’t give me _that_ look, it’s for the kids! Eat lots of Christmas food, _bake_ and cook a lot of Christmas food.” Steve grins widely. “I was in London for the past three years, but I made it a point to come back every December.” Before Natasha could prod further as to what he was doing in London for such a long period of time, Steve snaps his fingers together. “ _Oh_! Did Bucky tell you about his grandmother?"

She quietly shakes her head, not wanting to interrupt him. Even though Steve is telling her something so ordinary, she still feels the pull of intrigue, of wanting to know more. 

"His grandmother would knit sweaters for us." Steve chuckles at the fond memory. "As typical as this sounds like, it's something she looks forward to doing every year."

"It must be a nice feeling to receive a knitted sweater from your grandmother." Natasha agrees, smiling easily. "I've never had one."

"A knitted sweater?" Steve raises his eyebrow. "Or a grandmother?"

He says it in such a gentle tone that Natasha finds it difficult to feel annoyed of his brief lack of empathy. "Both." She settles for a simple reply. 

Steve immediately looks guilty, of a realisation that he'd said things he shouldn't have. "I'm sorry." The tips of his ears turn red as he apologises.

"It's not a big deal.” Natasha doesn't dwell on it, thankfully. She never liked wallowing in self pity over something she has no control, anyway. She continues their conversation a split second after. “What else do you do for Christmas?"

"Well, we play in the snow a lot." Steve says, then sees the same _look_ Natasha is giving him. He laughs. “You’re never too old to play with snow, trust me.”

She scrunches her nose, though not in a way that is judging him. “But it’s so _cold._ ”

It is Steve’s turn to give _her_ a look of mock surprise. She senses what he is about to say before he even said it. “You’re _Russian_.”

“Okay, I need to stop you right here,” Natasha wags a finger in his direction as she smirks. “I may have been born in Russia, but I’ve been living here since I was eight. I’m _practically_ American.”

“But earlier, you said -” Steve tries to argue, but Natasha stops him mid-sentence with a curt wave. He looks at her with an amused smile as she interjects him gently. “That was _different._ It’s just not in my blood to...yknow, _worship_ Christmas.”

“We don’t -” He starts, then pauses when he catches her eye. Steve relents, shaking his head. “- okay, fine, _maybe_ we do. Still, you have to try it one day. Snowball fights, snow angels. Hey, _do you want to build a snowman_?”

Natasha rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, though a chuckle escapes her. “You did not just make a Frozen reference.”

Steve sits up straighter. “And what if I did?” He grins unabashedly.

Natasha holds a hand out as she starts to fold her fingers one by one. “You are obsessed with milkshakes, you like playing in the snow, you make Frozen references, you visit Santa in malls - a child, Steve. You’re a _child_.”

Steve doesn’t deny. Instead, he agrees to her deduction with a roar of laughter. “This season does bring out the child in me, I have to admit.”

“You’re really something, Rogers.” She leans back when she realises the waitress approaching their table again, carrying their orders in a tray. As the waitress places their burgers in front of them, Natasha continues. “You know, I don’t even know your age.”

“I’m approaching the big 3 in a year.” Steve replies, reaching for a fry. “How about you?”

“Not that far off.” Natasha says. “I’m 26.”

There’s a short stretch of silence after that as both of them begin to eat their dinner. Eventually, Steve breaks the silence with a question he has had in mind for the past 30 minutes. “So why did you decide to move to America?”

Natasha doesn’t reply immediately - she finishes chewing first, then takes a few sips of her milkshake. If Steve looks closely, he would realise the distant look in her eyes, a sharp but curt flash of sadness in her expression as Natasha contemplates if she trusts him enough to reveal parts of her past. She decides that she does, as surprising as it sounds like, given the wall she had put up around her heart.

“I grew up in an orphanage.” Natasha says slowly. “Then I was adopted into the States.”

Steve wants to ask a follow up question - _where is her adoptive family now?_ But something tells him that he shouldn’t, so he keeps mum. Steve thinks it is because of the way Natasha had flinched when she said that sentence, a recollection of something he knows not to be rainbows and unicorns. Steve believes he hasn’t known her long enough for him to be privy of her past, so out of respect, he stops asking.

Seconds pass, and Natasha finds herself grateful that he doesn’t pry for more, even though she doesn’t tell him that. They eat their meals in silence, occasionally exchanging glances that end with small, wistful smiles. After dinner, as Natasha hails for a cab to take her home, Steve turns to ask her a question before she leaves. 

“So will I see you at the hospital tomorrow?”

She thinks for a little bit, tilting her head to the side. “I might not be able to make it before the visitation hours. I’ve already skipped work today, anyway. Maybe not for the rest of this week too, because of the holiday sales.” Natasha isn’t sure if she is seeing things, but Steve looks a little disappointed to hear that. At the prospect of what his reaction could possibly mean, Natasha feels her heart skipping a beat, though she instantly pushes that feeling away.

Hearing that, Steve _is_ disappointed and he doesn’t even know why. He’d like to attribute that tiny pang in his heart to the fact that Natasha wouldn’t be able to visit Bucky for the remaining days in the week. _Yeah_ , Steve thinks, a little confused with the way his heart is reacting, _yeah, that should be it._

“But I don’t think it will be that long before we cross roads again.” Natasha says without thinking, then pauses by the taxi door in confusion as to why she said that - there is absolutely no reason for her to feel obligated to visit James after all, especially since his family is by his side now. Perhaps it’s the guilt she still feels talking, Natasha concludes that to be the best explanation in the end.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“ _Okay, can I just say something crazy_?” Natasha sings, and Steve catches her implication immediately - she was referencing Frozen, like how he did much earlier. For some reason, he feels an inexplicable warmth blossoming across his stomach as Steve feels his face splitting into a grin. 

“I enjoyed your company tonight.” She tells him sincerely, a small smile on her lips. Natasha watches the glow on his face as he returns her smile. He gives her a nod. “The feeling is mutual.”

Natasha starts to enter the taxi, pausing to look back at him. “Well, goodnight then.” 

Steve waves, still smiling. “Goodnight, Natasha.” He catches one last smile from her before she closes the door. 

As the taxi takes off, Steve finds himself wondering when he would see her again.

* * *

It turns out, not so long after. 

Surprise is an understatement when Steve shows up at the Barnes for Thanksgiving, and finds the redhead sitting on their living room couch ever so casually. He blinks, wondering if he is _hallucinating,_ or if the woman he’d just met a week ago truly is here in the Barnes residence. She looks up at the same time he enters, and Natasha seems to catch the look of surprise on his face, because she starts to smirk.

“Surprise.” She announces halfheartedly, with her one arm outstretched in the air. Steve finds that gesture oddly endearing, a chuckle leaving him by natural reflex. 

“How…” He starts, but Natasha simply gestures to the kitchen. “I received a call from Rebecca. Apparently, I was summoned by Mrs. Barnes.”

Steve frowns just a little bit, slight worry spreading across his mind. He should have foreseen this, of _course_ Winnifred would ask Natasha to come for Thanksgiving - especially if she really is going to be part of the family in the future. Steve is more curious as to how Rebecca convinced the redhead to show up without revealing that they _know_.

Natasha elaborates without him having to ask her to. “Mrs. Barnes wanted to show her gratitude to me for _saving_ ,” She air-quotes the last word, “James’ life. And Rebecca may have threatened to drag me from the bookstore herself if I didn’t accept the invitation so...here I am I guess.”

“I honestly thought you would put up a better fight.” Steve says with a low laugh, shaking his head in pure amusement. 

“Rogers, are you tired of me already?” Natasha returns with great ease, the smirk still lingering on her lips. 

Steve settles himself on the couch perpendicular to hers. “You know I’m happy to see you here, Romanoff. I’m just surprised, that’s all. The last time I invited you for Christmas dinner, you _did_ say that you didn’t want to impose.”

She did say that, and Natasha _does_ remember. Shock wasn’t even enough to describe how she had felt that morning when she’d received that sudden call from Rebecca - _I didn’t get the chance to properly thank you yet, so I was wondering if you would like to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?_ Her first instinct of course was to tell a white lie, make up something and tell James’ sister that she already had plans. But Rebecca had brought up her mother, and how much it would mean to her if Natasha would accept their dinner invitation for Thanksgiving - _James would have loved it if you came, you did save his life after all. Just treat it as a dinner of gratitude to you. Above all else, we’re just so thankful that James is stable._ When she heard that, she had only been half convinced. It really was Rebecca’s insistence of marching over to the bookstore and personally dragging her to their house that got through to her - what has she got to lose, anyway? It’s not like she has anything else to do that evening.

Eventually, Natasha winks. “Guess that’s a sign for you to brush up on your persuasion skills.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

She merely grins, just as Winnifred waltzes into the living room. “Steve, thanks for the pie darling!” She exclaims happily, even though there are layers of tiredness in her eyes that both of them see - of worry for her son who is still unconscious in the hospital. “Anyway, kitchen duty calls you!”

Steve stands automatically, already smiling. He stands the same time Natasha does, the latter finally showing some signs of obvious shyness being in the home filled with strangers. “Mrs. Barnes, hello. I’m Natasha.”

“Natasha, dear,” Winnifred turns to regard the redhead, her eyes sparkling with joy almost at once. She reaches out to hug the latter, who returns the hug awkwardly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you earlier. Thank you for coming today.”

Steve watches the exchange quietly with observing eyes. “Oh, the pleasure is mine. Thank you for having me. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Winnifred shakes her head immediately. “ _No,_ no! I want you to just sit down and relax. Maybe watch the television.”

Natasha blushes as she shifts her feet uncomfortably. She meets Steve’s gaze briefly, before turning back to James’ mother. “Are you sure? I could always-”

Winnifred hushes her with a firm wave of her hand. “You’re our special guest this evening, Natasha! Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Even though she wants to assure the older woman that she really doesn’t mind helping out, Natasha settles for a simple thank you in the end. James’ mother responds by patting her arm gently. “Sweet child, just call me Winnifred.” She states. “And _family_ don’t thank each other.”

Natasha blinks, quite sure she’d heard wrongly. “Family?” 

“ _Okay_ , let’s finish preparing that Thanksgiving dinner now, shall we?” Steve pipes in quickly from the side, pushing Winnifred gently towards the direction of the kitchen. Winnifred obliges easily, flitting away quickly without looking back. Steve dares not look at Natasha as he passes her, even though he catches the confusion etched on her face from his peripheral.

Luckily for Steve, Natasha doesn’t ask any questions, not since Rebecca’s two children, George and Julie ran into the living room, chasing after their second cousins, Emily and Sandra. She’d met them earlier albeit briefly, when Emily, the oldest of all four children, opened the front door for her. As the children’s laughter echoes around the four walls, Natasha sits back onto the couch, watching as they collapse into a heap of cushions on the floor and reach for their scattered toys. 

When Steve returns to the living room half an hour later, he feels a smile on his lips as he sees that Natasha had gotten acquainted with the kids - with George in her lap as she sits on the carpeted floor, reading Julie’s storybook. The kids are mesmerised by her, their eyes unblinkingly staring as she narrates on and on about a black cat that wouldn’t take his bath. Natasha seems a little bit shy when she looks up and catches his gaze, even though it is nothing but warm and welcoming. 

“Dinner’s ready.” He announces, and the kids whip their heads towards his voice in one, synchronised motion. Their faces light up just by hearing that, and they begin to push away from the floor, scrambling into the dining area in fits of giggles. Steve holds a hand out of courtesy for Natasha, who takes it simply because it would feel awkward otherwise. He pulls her up from the floor, and she nearly stumbles forward into him. Natasha breaks into another laughter, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she lets go of her grip on his hand. “Sorry. I swear I’m not normally this unstable.”

“What did the kids make you do in that thirty minutes I was away?” Steve muses in a teasing manner.

“Nothing you don’t already know.” Natasha simply smirks.

Later during dinner, as Natasha sits across Steve and beside Rebecca, she feels a little overwhelmed in the best ways possible. There is warmth she has not felt in the longest of time lingering in the air, a stroke of serendipity in the laughter filled ambience. Everyone is especially welcoming of her, even though Natasha believes that she is _technically_ a stranger - earlier, James’ grandmother had enveloped her into the tightest bear hug the second she’d seen her, and Natasha had been momentarily stunned by the sudden display of affection that she didn’t react immediately. His grandmother, once pulling herself apart from her, had asked if she would visit again for Christmas - she didn’t know how to answer, but luckily for her, Steve swooped in to the rescue by joking; _grandma, it’s been barely ten seconds and you’re already scaring Natasha away. Let the poor woman breathe!_

It didn’t just end there, for Winnifred and James’ aunt had piled her plate with so much food that Natasha had been convinced it would last her for at least two days. When she glanced at Steve, her eyes pleading and a little bit horrified, he’d laughed - _they’re probably feeding you James’ portion as well, you know._

Which leads her to this point of the Thanksgiving dinner where her heart is full, almost brimming with genuine happiness that Natasha had honestly forgotten about. To be around so many people in one room, sharing their stories and laughter - Natasha feels happy butterflies scurrying into her stomach.

Before she leaves that evening, Winnifred gives her a warm bear hug - and Natasha relishes in that feeling of being in the arms of someone old enough to be her mother. Winnifred doesn’t say much after that, standing beside her daughter quietly as Rebecca thanks her again for coming. “Don’t be a stranger.” She says, and Natasha is left with no choice but to nod. The kids come by just then, with Steve tailing behind them. They give her hugs and thank her for reading them stories earlier. 

Then everyone leaves, except Steve. He rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly. “So…”

She waits for him to finish his sentence, a ready smile on her face. “So... _what_?”

He grins. “How was your Thanksgiving experience with us?”

“It was really lovely.” Natasha replies, her tone sincere - she hopes he knows. It seems that Steve does, from the way he is beaming at her, clearly glad that she’d enjoyed her few hours with them. “You sure you don’t need a lift home?” 

Natasha shakes her head. “Yeah, I’ll just call an uber.”

Steve nods in acceptance, before speaking again. “Okay so, before you go, I had this crazy idea earlier.”

She’s intrigued, to say the least. Natasha encourages him to continue. “Oh, really? Humor me.”

“It’s just that, I was watching you earlier,” He begins, then frowns at his poor choice of words when Natasha gives him another bemused look. “I mean, not in a creepy stalkerish kind of way, but just as a mere observation.”

“Mmhmm. Go on.”

“Plus I was thinking of what you told me a week ago over dinner. About how you don’t have anything planned out for Christmas. Seeing the way you reacted during dinner earlier made me realise that you know what? Christmas is all about _giving_.”

Natasha doesn’t quite see the direction he is headed just yet, but she humors him by not interrupting. She simply nods her head a few times as Steve continues. “And what better way to make Christmas special by spreading joy to people around us, right?”

“Steve, what is the point you’re trying to make?” She asks gently, patiently and watches how Steve’s eyes seem to twinkle when he says this:

“I want you to list down all the Christmas activities you’ve always wanted to do, and I’ll do them with you.”

For a second there, Natasha doesn’t register his words properly in her mind. “Come again?”

“A Christmas bucket list, in other words.” Steve explains. “You told me how you’ve never celebrated Christmas properly before, so I’m suggesting that this year, you _do._ ”

“But...why?” She couldn’t help it, she just had to ask - why would someone go through all this hassle for someone he’d just met? It almost makes no sense, but for a fraction of a moment there, Natasha ponders, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“You should see your face earlier at the dining table, Natasha.” Steve says, and he flashes her this boyish grin that makes her heart pound. “You were so _happy_. I don’t think I’ve seen that look on you yet, until just now.”

She doesn’t know how to respond, so Natasha keeps mum.

“So what I _think_ is that, you are indifferent to Christmas because you’ve never had the full experience of this festive season.

“But why?” Natasha understands what Steve is trying to tell her, but that doesn’t prevent her from repeating her question, this time with more persistency. 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “I already told you why.”

She shakes her head twice. “No, I mean...why all this _trouble_ for someone you’ve just met? What’s the reason?”

Steve gives her another sheepish grin. “Sometimes, Natasha, there’s no need to have a reason to want to do things for others. The question you should ask is - _why not_?”

Hearing that _almost_ convinces Natasha. _Almost_.

But like her, Steve is persistent, clasping his hands together in a dramatic gesture to plead for her to agree to his idea. “Come on, it’d be fun, trust me. We can come up with the list together if you are unsure. Think about it, when else would you be able to do something like this?” 

That’s true, Natasha’s inner voice says almost at once. 

He continues. “Besides, Bucky would like that I’m doing this for you.”

Natasha almost asks _why on earth would he like that,_ but she ends up just shrugging, unsure of anything to counter him. Steve did make a few valid points, after all - and really, what has she got to lose? She could always stop this arrangement midway if she doesn’t feel like it anymore.

“Alright, fine. If you insist.” Natasha relents eventually, and sees Steve pumping a fist in the air in a victory gesture. She rolls her eyes playfully. “Are you really _that_ happy?”

“Maybe.” Steve’s face splits into another grin as he moves by natural instinct to stand near the door, opening it for her as Natasha takes her coat. She joins him at the entrance, wanting to say something as a reply but they are both interrupted by the sound of little giggles coming from the stairway. They turn to that direction, spotting the kids huddling together on one of the higher steps, their eyes gleaming for some reason.

Emily is the one to speak, trying to hide her excitement behind the mischievous grin plastered on her face. She says in a straight tone, while pointing to something above their heads; “You two are standing under the mistletoe.”

At once, both Steve and Natasha look up - and _oh, crap,_ is the first thing that crosses Natasha’s mind as her cheeks start to colour, the obvious implication hanging in the air between them is not lost. 

“Emily -” Steve begins to say, and Natasha tries not to notice how the tip of his ears have gone pink. “Natasha is our guest tonight, we don’t -”

“Steve,” She interjects, touching his arm just a little bit. When he looks at her, Natasha gives him a smirk. “It’s tradition, isn’t it? I’d hate to disappoint the kids.”

And really, that is _really_ all that Natasha thinks of when she’d said that - the kids are watching them, expecting something from stories they’ve heard about mistletoe kisses. Natasha doesn’t want to be _that_ person to shatter the innocence of four children, so without waiting for a response, she simply tiptoes and presses her lips lightly onto his right cheek. The moment is over within two seconds. She turns to the kids, grinning. “Happy now, kids?”

They nod, squealing and clapping at the same time.

Steve could only smile, pretending that he could no longer feel the brush of her lips on his cheek, however quick that moment had been. He pretends he doesn’t feel his heart skipping a beat - because acknowledging that occurrence would mean nothing but an invitation for _trouble._

Natasha turns to him again. “Well, goodnight, then.” 

“Goodnight.” He tells her and watches her leave, his heart pounding way too loudly for his liking.

* * *


	3. have a holly jolly christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of the first item in the christmas bucket list, and a little bit of Steve and Natasha's pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 more days till Christmas!!!

Maria Hill is not one to be rendered speechless so easily - it would probably take a lot from someone to prevent words from forming in her mind every second that passes. But here she is, on a Monday morning, completely and utterly lost for words.

“You’re looking for…Natasha.” Maria repeats, her eyes still blown open wide at this _gorgeous specimen of a man_ (she’d cleared her throat and slapped that thought away as soon as it flitted into her mind) who’d just entered her store and instead of looking at books on display, had ventured to the counter and asked for her best friend.

“That I am.” This man says, flashing her this bashful smile that nearly dazzles her - Maria clears her throat again and look away. “One moment, please.” She says as calmly as she could before making her way to the storeroom.

She finds her best friend’s back against the door, mounting boxes of books onto the trolley. Maria nearly _scurries_ to her, unable to contain her excitement. “ _Oh my god, Natasha Romanoff you sly fox!_ ” She lets out this loud squeal that nearly sends the other woman into shock. 

“Maria, what the _fuck_!” Natasha flinches, almost jumping out of her sneakers as one hand flies to her chest in reflex. 

Maria ignores Natasha’s reaction, going straight for what is on her mind. “How could you not _tell_ me? And here I thought you had a negative love life when you’ve been out there seeing one of the hottest individuals I have ever seen in my entire life-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, _stop_ right there,” Natasha waves her hands in the air to interrupt Maria. She scrunches her face in confusion. “what on _earth_ are you talking about?”

Her best friend points a finger behind her shoulder, as if that action explains _everything_ she’d just sputtered out. “I’m talking about that 6 ft 2 handsome man standing by the counter who just _asked for you!_ ”

Natasha’s first reaction is to furrow her eyebrows together in a frown, wondering what the heck is her best friend talking about. But because Maria had taken a sidestep to give her way to pass and see for herself, Natasha takes it and starts to head out of the storeroom with Maria tailing behind her hotly. “I honestly don’t know what you are talking - _oh."_

She stops so abruptly in her steps that Maria nearly knocks into her back. “Nat!” She hisses, but smooths her expression as soon as she sees the man looking at their direction. Natasha takes a few hurried steps towards him. “Steve,” She greets him, a little shellshock to see him in the bookstore. He grins. “How?” 

“Becky.” Steve answers, taking two steps forward to meet her halfway across the store. “Thought I should drop by and just check out your working place. Hey,” He waves at Maria politely. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Hello, _Steve Rogers._ ” Maria says, the hint of teasing in her tone not lost to someone who has known her for years. Thankfully for Natasha though, Maria keeps it as that, disappearing back into the storeroom to give her best friend some privacy (not that she needs it, though).

“You’re _such_ a stalker.” Natasha accuses jokingly, a smile gracing her face lightly. “To what do I owe this pleasure this Monday morning?”

“Well,” Steve rubs the side of his neck nervously. “I was coincidentally in the area. Remember what I told you two nights ago?”

She does. “The Christmas Bucket List?” 

He nods, eyes gleaming. “I was just wondering if you’ve thought about what you want to do for that list yet?”

As a matter of fact, she _did_ think about one or two possibilities, but Natasha tries to act as though she isn’t all that eager to say those two items in her list. She gives him a curt nod. “I’ve thought of two things, so far; they’re completely doable.”

Steve smiles, a little relieved. “Let’s hear them. I mean, if you’re free now.”

Well she technically is, since there is no customers in the store at that moment. “They’re _really_ basic though so don’t laugh.” 

He mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away - a gesture that isn’t all that accurate for her statement, but Natasha lets him have it with a simple shrug of nonchalance. “I thought it would be nice to set up a Christmas tree at my house, and a _real_ tree at that. I’ve never had one before, honestly. And some decorations; a wreath perhaps?”

He takes in her words carefully and without judgement. “Oh, we can definitely do that.”

Natasha continues, thinking of her extremely short list from the top of her head. “I’d like to also...try baking some gingerbread cookies.”

Steve grins naturally. “You can totally join us for that session nearer to Christmas. It’s part of our tradition.” Then he adds as an afterthought, “Hopefully, Bucky would be awake by then.”

She nods in agreement. “Yeah, that would be great. How is he doing, by the way?”

“About the same, actually.” Steve replies. “But they’ve moved him to the general ward.”

“Great.” Natasha smiles, breathing a sigh of relief. “That’s a good first step.”

A customer walks in just then, effectively cutting their conversation short as the elderly woman heads towards Natasha without hesitation. “Good morning, Miss. I would like to find for a book.” 

“Of course.” She replies pleasantly, darting a quick look at Steve, who simply smiles and gestures for her to go ahead. Natasha gets the title from the customer and heads behind the counter to check for its availability - once she finds that their store does have a copy left, she starts to move to one of the back shelves. 

By the time she is done helping the customer, Steve had already left. A little disappointed that she didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, Natasha continues her work for the rest of the day, ignoring the suggestive looks Maria is giving her from the counter. 

Just before lunch though, Natasha receives a text from Steve. She doesn’t even realise that seeing his name on her screen makes her smile automatically, something which Maria catches almost at once. 

“Is that Steve?” Maria pipes with a singsong-like voice, and Natasha fights the urge to roll her eyes at her best friend.

_From: Steve Rogers_

> _Christmas shopping this Saturday? I know some places._
> 
> _Sorry I had to leave so abruptly, my client wanted to see me._

She types a reply quickly, a sudden realisation hitting her that she actually has _no_ idea what Steve works as.

> _Sounds like a plan._
> 
> _Client? Are you a lawyer or something?_

Her phone buzzes a minute after, and knowing that Maria is probably watching her with hawk-like eyes, Natasha waits just a few more seconds before reaching for it.

_From: Steve Rogers_

> _Me? A lawyer? When my persuasion skills are as bad as you claimed it to be?_

It takes her everything not to snicker out loud as Natasha presses a hand against her lips. She makes the mistake of looking up - because then her gaze lands on Maria’s, and her best friend is unmistakably _smirking_ at her. “Don’t you have accounts to settle?” Natasha quips, and Maria lets out a cackle. 

“My god, why would I focus on something as dull as numbers when I can witness something magical unfurling in front of my very own eyes?”

“You’re honestly _incorrigible_ , you know that?” Natasha states, before hearing the buzz from her phone, signifying another message that had just come in. She glances down on reflex - it’s another reply from Steve. 

_From: Steve Rogers_

> _I’m actually an independent artist._

His reply does surprise her to some extent - she had no idea Steve is artistic, let alone that being his career. She makes a mental note to ask him next time. Natasha puts away her phone and continues working, humming a tune aimlessly as she tags the new books in the box.

“And you my friend,” Maria half yells from the counter, “are so _smitten_.” 

Natasha pretends she didn’t hear that.

* * *

Never in a million years had Natasha ever thought she would end up in a shop selling Christmas decorations and ornaments. But here she is, with a basket in her hands as her eyes skimmed the entire store filled with possibly _everything_ one can find for the festive season, fairy lights draped from one railing to another, evergreen boughs and hollies hanging at every corner.

She hates to admit it, but the ambience does feel a little bit _nice._ Different, in a sort of comforting manner that sets her heart at ease. Still, she does feel a little bit overwhelmed at the stocks piled after one another, stretching from one end to the other end - not knowing where or how to start. Luckily, Steve comes to her rescue, gently pulling her to the back of the shop first. “Okay, you mentioned that you wanted a wreath. Here’s the section for wreaths.”

Natasha feels her eyes widening at the sight in front of her, rows and rows of wreaths of all sizes and patterns stare right back at her. “Uh,” Her forehead creases with all the choices she sees in front of her, her mind suddenly blank.

“Take your time.” He tells her gently, hands on his hip as he too, begins to look at the items on display. “I need to also get one for myself so…” Steve reaches for one - a simple wreath decorated with acorns and a red ribbon. “This will do.”

She stares at him, mildly offended that he literally took only 3 seconds to decide. “How do you do that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” 

Natasha gestures at all the wreaths in front of her. “Choose one so easily. It feels like I’m making such a heavy decision.”

Steve suppresses the laugh in his throat - he finds it ridiculously adorable of her to say that. “Natasha, it’s just a wreath. You’re not choosing a man to marry.”

She stiffens at that, though pushes his remarks to the back of her head. Natasha turns back to the wreaths in front of her. “Am I supposed to pick one that sings Christmas spirits into my heart?”

This time, Steve laughs for real - his laughter rings in the store merrily. “Is this like...your first time shopping... _ever_?”

Natasha attempts to elbow his ribs as a response, to which Steve avoids by taking a sidestep, still chuckling. She shakes her head in amusement, then says. “Well, how would I know? They all look beautiful, and they each have their own stories to tell.”

Steve is a little bit lost for words, wondering how Natasha could interpret wreaths as something with so much depth in them. It amuses him, to say the least, watching how she’s taking this simple process so seriously, when to him it is just another Christmas decoration. Natasha seems to notice that, for she darts him an apologetic, sheepish look. “Sorry, I tend to overcomplicate things, don’t I?”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He is quick to give her a smile of assurance. “You’re right, you know. They’re all uniquely different. Hmm...maybe you could pick one that catches your attention the most. One that screams _Natasha Romanoff.”_

Frankly, she has no idea what screams Natasha Romanoff and what doesn’t. She supposes she could just go by instinct, one that she likes the most - and Natasha does just that a moment after. Once she places the chosen wreath into her basket, she turns to Steve. “What next?”

They go around the store, picking out various ornaments, baubles and lights for her tree, and some other wall decorations that catch her attention. Steve is ever so patient as he follows her around, answering her inquiries and curiosity as to what some decorations symbolise. By the end of the hour, they’d exited the store with a few paper bags in their hands. Natasha feels oddly satisfied, for some reason, basking in simplistic joy as she peers into her bags of decoration. 

Once they reach his car, Steve tells her that their next stop is a tree farm, to which he quickly assures her to be both affordable and sustainable - Natasha concedes to his suggestion easily. It’s a thirty minutes drive away, so they made small talk, with Natasha asking Steve about his job and where he’d gone to university. Steve answers that he’d gone to an art school upstate, and had been employed in museums for some time before deciding to venture into being an independent artist. He tells her it’s one of his best decisions ever made, and that it allows him to express his art style more freely and without restrictions. 

“And what is your art style?” She asks after that.

“Realism, mostly. I could show you, one day.” He glances to his side. “Actually, I have an art exhibition coming up soon. If you’re interested, I could send you the details.”

“Oh, I’d love to.” Natasha genuinely says. “I can’t draw to save my life, so it’ll be really nice to see your artworks.”

“But you can dance.” Steve returns, as if to say _don’t be modest, you’re pretty artistic too from what I’ve heard._ Natasha wonders how he knows about that piece of information, but figures a beat after that Rebecca had probably told him about it, since Natasha had asked her if it was Julie who wanted to learn ballet.

“Not anymore.” She puts in simply, masking her tone to be that of monotonous when in reality, her heart still clenches a little as those words leave her. Natasha keeps her eyes trained on the road, noticing that Steve had given her short glances from time to time, his lips pursed into one thin line. She knows he wants to ask her to elaborate, knows he is curious, yet he is being cautious of her feelings, of respecting the boundaries between them. 

And she appreciates that gesture, really. It has been a long time since she’d ever known someone as thoughtful as Steve, so Natasha is grateful he doesn’t pry. She doesn’t know what compels her to say it, but she does in the end, softly, her words stumbling out in a whisper. “I was supposed to be a professional ballet dancer, trained under the New York City Ballet.”

He notices her use of past tense, of course, but Steve remains quiet. It takes her a long minute before Natasha continues her sentence. “Then I had an accident. Tore my ligaments, which then led to a knee surgery. Just like that, I was forced to give up my dreams.”

Steve feels awful, a sunken feeling in his stomach. “I’m really, _really_ sorry to hear that, Natasha.”

She throws him the best smile she could muster, not wanting him to worry unnecessarily for something that has happened in the past - even if those memories still came back to haunt her. “It was years ago, I’m fine now. I had Maria with me then, and now...she was a real life saviour.”

“The bookstore owner?”

“And my best friend.”

“I’m glad you had her.” 

“Me too.”

Silence lapses over them after that, and Natasha feels just a little bit sorry that the atmosphere had changed so drastically because of her story. She brightens up, putting on the widest grin before switching topics and setting a new tone, one that returns to how the air had been before she told him about her past. “Okay, so, I don’t want to get a tree that’s _too_ huge, obviously. I mean, it’s only just me in the house, plus we didn’t get that much ornaments, anyway.”

Steve goes along naturally. “I totally understand. It really depends on the space you have at home, too. The place I’m bringing you has a variety of sizes so you don’t have to worry. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something.”

There’s a long pause. “Thank you, Steve.” Natasha whispers eventually, and for a moment, Steve wonders if there is a double meaning to that appreciation she’d just given him. 

* * *

Steve follows Natasha back to her apartment after an early dinner, lunging the five-foot tree with him as the redhead looks on in utter gratitude. She feels a tad bit guilty that he’s doing so much for her, when he obviously didn’t have to, but every time she meets his sincere gaze and smile, Natasha seems to ignore the logic working in her mind, following her hea - _instincts_ instead. 

As he sets up the tree at the corner of her living room, Natasha lays out all of the decorations they’d bought earlier. Liho, her black feline, stares at her quietly from where she is perched on the couch, and for a second, Natasha wonders if her cat is judging her for being _this_ festive so suddenly. “What?” She whispers to Liho, waving her hand in front of her cat. “Stop staring at me.”

Liho purrs, then looks away uncaringly. 

Natasha focuses her attention back at her purchases for the day. She refuses to admit it out loud but deep down, there’s a bubbling feeling of excitement within her, one that is foreign yet awfully comforting to experience. She doesn’t even realise how excited she is to start decorating her tree until she catches the look Steve is giving her from where he stood behind the tree. 

She blushes, clearing her throat. Natasha looks down on the baubles in front of her, her eyebrows furrowed together. “I don’t even know where to begin.” She confesses softly. 

“Hold on,” Steve says, taking his phone out of his pocket and swiping his finger on the screen. Natasha almost snorts when he starts playing a Christmas playlist, the music echoing in the four walls of her living room. He grins. “What better way to start than to immerse yourself in the Christmas mood?”

She relents with a smile - Steve’s right, after all. They start decorating in comfortable silence, working in tandem as they quietly gave their suggestions from time to time on where to hang what ornaments. To be doing this with Steve, Natasha thinks out of the blue, is so oddly _intimate_ , and at that thought, she flushes, swallowing the lump on her throat. 

Fifteen minutes after, Natasha decides to break the silence in the air. “It has sort of reached my understanding that you seem to have plenty of time on your plate.” She starts with an easy tease while hanging another bauble on the tree. “Don’t you have other places to be on a Saturday evening like this?”

“Why? Eager to get rid of me already?” Steve teases back, smirking. “This is only the first thing off your list.”

“I’m just curious, that is all.” Natasha shrugs nonchalantly, without missing a beat. “What’s a handsome man like you doing in a woman’s house at this hour? What would your _girlfriend_ say about this?”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “Thanks for calling me handsome.”

“Is that all you took away from my sentence?” Natasha feigns disappointment, heaving a sigh. “ _Men_.”

“That is all I took away because the latter part of your sentence is unfounded.” He simply replies, though not at all offended. Steve looks away from the ornament he’d just hung on her tree, settling his eyes on her instead. She meets them a second after, and her smile seems to become wider. 

“Really?” Natasha asks, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she had just heard. “You don’t have a girlfriend?” And then she lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Unless you have...a _boyfriend_ ? Steve, if you do, I _completely_ support you. There is no judgement, no questions in this house.”

He chortles, nearly choking on his own saliva. “I really appreciate that, Natasha, but that’s definitely not it.”

She tilts her head to the side, urging him to elaborate with a raised eyebrow. Steve takes a deep breath, contemplating for a few seconds if he is ready to share his story to her. He thinks about how she’d opened up a little to him earlier in the car, how much he had appreciated that little form of trust she’d given him. When he glances in her direction, the comfort and ease settling at the base of his stomach, Steve thinks he is. 

“I had a fiancee.” He tells her truthfully, then averts his gaze to the baubles lying around him, as though he is afraid to see her reaction to what he has to say next. “But it’s pretty apparent that I can’t marry someone who didn’t show up on our wedding day.”

Steve could almost _hear_ Natasha frowning immediately, his words sinking into her mind. “What a bitch.” She mutters beneath her breath, clear disbelief and disdain laced in her tone.

“Yeah well,” Steve shrugs. “I don’t think she ever loved me as much as I loved her.”

“ _Definitely_ a bitch.” Natasha states, uncaring of her language. How could this woman do that to someone like Steve is _beyond_ her. “She had absolutely no rights to play with your feelings like that.”

He appreciates her input, he really does. But he shakes his head in the end, having accepted his bad luck in love a long time ago. “It’s alright, really. At least she did it before we got married. Anything after would have been worse.”

Steve hears her heave a loud sigh. “That’s true, I suppose.”

“Well, she’s happy now.” Steve mumbles. “Got married to another guy shortly after that.”

“So she _cheated_ on you?”

He doesn’t reply. 

“Unbelievable.” Natasha is shaking her head furiously. “If it’s any consolation, _you_ dodged a bullet right there.” 

“Definitely.” Steve agrees, then says nothing else. Silence lingers awkwardly in the air until Natasha speaks again. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You deserve so much better, Steve.”

“Life, right?” He manages a small smile and resumes decorating her tree. “Matters relating to the heart is a little tricky. Bucky’s always trying to get me to date again but...I don’t know...” 

What Steve had just said tugs on her heartstrings, hitting way too close to home, but Natasha chooses to remain impassive, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “I want to believe that I’ve put it behind me, but I don’t think it ever really goes away.”

There’s a long pause, then Natasha whispers - he almost doesn’t catch her words. “They don’t.”

Steve glances at her, noticing that she’d gotten up from her position. It’s the way she had said those two words that strikes a chord within him, that like him, Natasha probably has some other scars within her heart too. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it as he sees her moving away - a clear sign indicating that their conversation is over. Maybe next time, Steve thinks, he’ll ask her next time.

“I’m going to make you a drink.” Natasha simply announces before sauntering into the kitchen. Once she’d disappeared from the living room, Steve lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. In doing so, he meets Liho’s unfaltering gaze - the cat leaps into his lap and settles herself comfortably on his legs. He couldn’t help but smile, scratching between her ears. “Must be nice to be a cat, huh? You don’t have to worry about things as fragile as love.”

Liho meows and closes her eyes.

Natasha returns fifteen minutes after, carrying something in her hands. A smile blooms on her face naturally when she sees Liho comfortably sleeping on Steve, a sight that is extremely rare for her black feline. When Steve looks up to meet her eyes, he says, “Guess your cat likes me.”

“Be honored.” Natasha laughs a little, then hands him the drink. “Here, as appreciation for your help today.” She announces, and Steve accepts the glass gratuitously. A few seconds after, he frowns. “Is this...?” It dawns upon him that Natasha had disappeared into the kitchen to make him a _milkshake_. “Wait a minute -”

She gives him a half grin, half smirk, and just like that Steve _knows_. “- you mean when you said you know where to get the best milkshake, it’s…”

“Yup.” Natasha nods, settling herself comfortably onto the cushion on the floor. “Be the judge, Rogers. Tell me I’m right.”

He complies, taking an eager sip. Steve’s eyes widen in utter surprise as soon as the liquid hits his throat. Natasha just grins, looking at his expression in secret contentment and please. “Like what you just drank?”

“This is,” Steve seems to be at a loss for words, taking a few more huge sips. “Nat, _what_ did you put in this because it’s -”

“Amazing?” Natasha offers with a chuckle. “I told you so.”

“ _Beyond_ amazing.” He corrects her, then smacks his forehead in regret. “Oh no, I’m never going to be able to drink any other milkshakes after this.”

She laughs in amusement. “It’s just _milkshake_ , Steve.”

“You should _sell_ this.” 

Natasha simply looks at him, watching how Steve had already finished half his glass, ardent joy etched on his face. She doesn’t say anything else, and Steve makes this soft groan of contentment after he finishes his drink - it sends a little tingle down her spine that she fights hard to ignore.

They return to work after that, throwing light and silly remarks along the way - like how Steve is adamant on discovering her milkshake recipe from her, and how Natasha says she isn’t going to tell him so she could use that as a leverage next time. He laughs. It almost sounds like music to her ears.

Once everything is set up and decorated, they look back to admire their handiwork for the past two hours. Some time between, Liho had awoken to their laughter and had settled herself near the tree instead, one paw outstretched towards one of the hanging baubles on the bottom branch - it is a sight which Natasha welcomes as she tries her hardest not to chuckle. Just then, Steve moves to the side of the room to switch off the living room lights; the darkness that envelopes them only lasted for a few seconds, for Steve proceeds to switch on the fairy lights draped around the Christmas tree. 

“What do you think?” Steve asks, cocking his hands on his hips. He turns his head sideways to glance at the redhead, sees the soft smile plastered on her face, the lights illuminating onto her cheeks, eluding a radiant glow and bringing out the green in her eyes - Steve’s heart catches in his throat.

Natasha doesn’t reply at once - she marvels at the beautiful sight in front of her, the feeling of joy fluttering into her heart slowly, but surely. She is completely mesmerised at the orange, warm lights twinkling in her living room, unsure of what to say - she has never had this before in all her years of staying in this apartment, never once had she set up a tree in her living room, or felt the warmth lingering in the December air.

“It’s beautiful.” She settles for that answer in the end, her tone sincere. Natasha turns to meet his gaze, and silently thank the heavens that it is still relatively dark, for she feels herself blushing. “It feels…” She pauses mid-sentence, finding for the right word.

Steve smiles, encouraging her to finish her sentence. 

Natasha’s face breaks into another smile. “It feels like _home_.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you once again for reading/commenting/giving kudos. Lemme know what you think of this chapter! :)


	4. walking in the winter wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of the second item in the bucket list, and Steve realising something stirring within him.

Natasha soon realises that not only does Steve Rogers wear his heart on his sleeve, he tends to approach life with rose coloured glasses and cotton candy clouds floating over his head. It’s borderline unreal how such a person exists, let alone how he is willing to spend more than just coffee time with her. They could not be more different from one another, yet day after day, Steve chooses to return, to stay. When the front doorbell rings, Natasha finds herself looking up at once. When she sees that it is Steve taking a step into the bookstore, she smiles.

“You know, you’re starting to become a regular,” She speaks up from behind the counter - it is almost closing hour, and Maria had gone home half an hour ago. Secretly, Natasha is glad, knowing that if she is to know that Steve had dropped by  _ again _ , she wouldn’t have let Natasha live this down even though she’d insisted he is just a friend. Natasha jabs a finger into his direction playfully. “who  _ doesn’t  _ buy anything from the store.” 

Immediately, Steve flushes. Truth be told, he really didn’t need to occasionally drop by, even though he tells himself it is purely due to convenience, since his latest client for a commission lives really nearby to the bookstore. He doesn’t want to admit that having spent quite some time with the redhead, he really  _ does _ enjoy her company.

Steve comes to a quiet conclusion that Bucky is really lucky. Then he leaves it at that. 

He quickly picks up the nearest title he could find on display - a classic he probably doesn’t give a damn about. Steve drops it onto the counter and fishes out his wallet. “Who says I’m not buying anything this evening?”

Natasha looks at him skeptically, looking past his facade easily. She takes one look at the title of the novel and nearly breaks into laughter. “I didn’t take you as someone who would read Jane Austen.”

Steve stands straight and puffs his chest out, even though he feels heat on his cheeks. “Her works are timeless.”

She rings his order anyway, the corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she places it into a paper bag. “Let me know what you think of the book after you’re done with it then.” It’s half a challenge and half a tease, and Natasha wonders if he would go along with it. He simply nods, albeit a little sheepishly. 

“I’m closing the store in fifteen minutes.” She tells him, knowing that he is probably here to ask her out for dinner or something else. Natasha does not tread onto anything other than that, any other _ implications _ of why he keeps returning - for now, she thinks she would just enjoy his company above everything else. “What are you up to this evening?”

He leans against the counter. “It’s been a long day so I thought of unwinding. And then I remembered your bucket list.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “I thought the next thing in my list can only be done nearer to Christmas.” She is referring to baking gingerbread cookies, of course, but Steve has another plan in mind when he flashes another smile in her direction.

“This is my suggestion.” He says. “Something that I think you should do this season, but probably don’t.”

“Care to give me a hint?” She asks in curiosity.

Steve shakes his head. “You’ll see, eventually. Are you hungry? If you are, we could eat dinner first.”

“That would be great.” Natasha says, and watches how Steve edges away when he spots a customer approaching the counter with her basket of books. Not wanting to disturb her, Steve takes the time to explore the bookstore instead, looking at rows and rows of books that stretch from one corner to another. The sight gives him a pleasant and cozy feeling, even if he may not be an avid reader.

“I’m not, either.” Natasha would tell him later over dinner when Steve confesses that out loud, glancing at  _ Sense and Sensibility  _ in his paper bag. “I mean I do occasionally read, but not like...ten books per month or something. I had no time to cultivate this habit when I was younger, because of all my intensive ballet training.” 

His expression softens as Steve feels a pang in his heart. He could tell that even though Natasha tries to act like she is completely fine with what happened years ago, deep down she still cares very much for the art. Thinking that it is probably a good time to distract herself from her own thoughts, Steve opens his mouth to speak again.

“By the way, my art exhibition is tomorrow.”

Natasha gives him a smile and a nod. “I’ve put it down on my schedule since you texted me the details.”

Hearing that surprises him a little; the genuine willingness of Natasha wanting to come to his exhibition when there is absolutely no obligation for her to. It sends a wave of gratitude curling into his stomach, and Steve finds himself eagerly returning her smile. “Thank you, Natasha. I really appreciate it.”

“There’s honestly no need to thank me.” She says. “That’s what friends do, right? Support each other?”

“Y-yeah.” He has no idea why he just stammered. “Friends. We’re friends.”

Natasha gives him this one look that he couldn’t decipher, but he takes it as an  _ of course we are, would I even be here if I don’t consider you a friend _ ? Steve returns to eating his food quietly, trying to mask the red spreading across his cheeks.

"So you're really not going to give me any hints as to where you are planning to bring me later?" Natasha asks again minutes after, once she'd finished her meal.

Steve shakes his head firmly. 

"You're not gonna kidnap me or something, are you?" Natasha raises an eyebrow warily. "Because I could totally kick your ass."

That's the last thing Steve expects to hear from her, so in that second where he tries to gauge which reaction to give, he ends up (unceremoniously) choking on his glass of water instead. 

"Oh shit, I was just joking." She says, passing him a napkin hurriedly. "Should I be worried?"

He shakes his head vehemently as he erupts into fits of coughing, turning red as a beetroot. It is borderline embarrassing that she had to witness him like this, even though Natasha clearly doesn't mind.

"Sorry," Steve finally manages to sputter out. "The water went through the wrong channel."

"Clearly." Natasha deadpans. "You okay?"

He nods, finally calming down. "God, I would  _ never _ -"

She throws her head back and laughs. Like really,  _ laughs.  _ Steve stares back with wide eyes, and it sort of reminds Natasha of a deer in headlights. The words tumble out of her mouth before she could even filter herself. "I swear, you are really adorable sometimes."

At the compliment - Steve doesn't know if it even is a compliment - he feels his face reddening involuntarily. She continues, still smiling. "You're seriously unreal sometimes, you know that?"

He has no idea if he should accept her words and leave them as that, or say something as a response - because honestly, Steve has no idea how or what to respond. What did Natasha even mean when she said that? 

"What do you mean?" He decides to ask in the end. Natasha shrugs. "Just, you're not like anyone I've ever met before. And I mean it in a good way."

"Thank...you?" Steve says, his tone laced with uncertainty.

"You're welcome." Natasha plainly replies, and finishes the last drop of her drink. “Anyway, I don’t have much expectations, but I’m ready to be surprised.”

“I don’t think you would be though, honestly.” Steve admits sheepishly, then calls for the bill.

As they exited the restaurant, Natasha pipes up out of the blue. “A Christmas miracle.” She starts, and earns a look of confusion from Steve. Natasha glances to her side, meeting his gaze. “If I could witness one, that would be great.”

“Is that going into your bucket list?” Steve asks, giving her a smile.

She nods. “It’d be nice, won’t it? If you could wish for a miracle right now, what would it be?”

Steve thinks for a few seconds, before the answer flits into his mind naturally. “Bucky waking up before Christmas. That would be great.”

Natasha smiles in agreement. “Definitely.” She echoes his words, an easy answer, because even though she had suggested it, Natasha truly has no idea what miracle she would like to witness this season.

* * *

The surprise turns out to be ice skating at Rockefeller Center.

She should have known - Natasha thinks to herself the second she realises the direction they are headed towards. When she darts a glance to her side, Natasha catches the look of anticipation hidden beneath his blue irises, of obvious and childlike happiness. It’s endearing, she thinks, so Natasha simply smiles and goes along with his plan.

“It’s one of our traditions, Bucky and I.” Steve starts to tell her. “We would always come here when we need to destress after a long, tiring December day.”

“That’s nice.” Natasha says, wondering if this meant that she is somehow James’ replacement. “Did you have a bad day today?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Not really, but it isn’t the best day either. Have you skated before?”

She merely nods. “A long time ago, though.”

“Well, not to worry. I could show you some moves if you’ve forgotten.” Steve offers with a grin, to which Natasha simply returns with another smile of her own. She doesn’t tell Steve that it probably wouldn’t be necessary, because Natasha is in fact pretty darn good at ice skating. She secretly thinks it would be fun to just let him indulge in that moment for a few minutes, and it would be interesting to see  _ how _ he would actually  _ teach  _ her, so Natasha keeps mum.

After changing into the appropriate skates, Steve leads her into the ice rink - her movement is a little wobbly initially, since Natasha hasn’t skated in many years, but she finds her balance eventually, with Steve’s hand softly curled around her sleeves. He gives her some pointers, and she listens uninterruptedly with a smile on her lips. When Steve starts to demonstrate, she follows, still not giving anything away. He hovers near her, arms outstretched and prepared to catch her if she loses her balance - but Natasha doesn’t, of course, even though she is once again impressed by his thoughtfulness. 

“Think you can skate by yourself now?” He asks her eventually, after realising that Natasha is holding herself out pretty well. She flashes him this little grin that sends his heart pounding as she pushes some strands of loose hair beneath her beanie. “We can go around the rink together slowly.”

“Why don’t we race?” Natasha asks sweetly, hands clasped together in front of her. Steve raises an eyebrow at once, clearly surprised by her bold suggestion. “The winner is entitled to one wish from the losing party.”

“Well that does sound tempting,” Steve frowns. “but is that really a good idea?”

Natasha starts to skate around him, basking in how his confusion seems to grow with each passing second. She throws him a smirk. “Are you scared, Rogers?”

“Hold on a minute,” He  _ finally  _ pieces two and two together. “Are you actually like... _ really good  _ at skating?”

She stops right beside him, her movement precise, her stance stable. “Why don’t you find out?”

And just like that, Natasha skates off, leaving him shell shock with his jaw dropped. His reaction sinks in two seconds late, and Steve scrambles to follow her tail, hearing her laughter ringing in the air merrily.

She skates with so much ease that Steve finds himself staring unnecessarily longer than he should. His eyes are as wide as saucers, watching her move gracefully with her hands tucked behind her back, almost like she’s dancing. It almost makes him feel stupid that he’d shown her some basic moves earlier, when she’s actually  _ this  _ good? Even though Natasha doesn’t do more than just glide and turn around the rink, it is enough to make him speechless - there’s this unabashed elegance that Natasha eludes without even realising, the way she shifts seamlessly among the crowd, her expression serene and calm. He struggles to catch up with her speed, but Steve doesn’t think that's too bad, especially since he is privileged enough to watch her from behind her.

“That’s  _ cheating _ ! I can’t believe you lied to me.” Steve says, a little breathless when he finally  _ does _ catch up with her - by then, Natasha came to a halt by the side, leaning against the railing as she flashes him another smirk. “It’s not a lie if I never said I didn’t know how to skate. I just let you  _ assume  _ I don’t.”

Steve’s a little bit impressed, but he doesn’t tell her that. No, scratch that, he’s  _ very  _ impressed with her skating abilities. “Where did you even learn how to skate like that?”

Natasha laughs - the sound reverberates in the cold, evening sky, carried by the winter breeze, a sound Steve has somehow associated with comfort and warmth. For a second, he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. Then he freezes, aghast at that thought;  _ wait, what? _

“You’re forgetting that I’m Russian.” She states point-blank.

Steve creases his forehead together. “It’s starting to come to my attention that you always use your Russian card when it is to your  _ advantage _ .”

She snickers - he isn’t wrong. “I was a  _ dancer _ , Steve.” Natasha nonetheless explains. “Skating and dancing aren’t very different from each other.”

“Uh, are you sure it doesn’t just apply to you?” He replies, leaning against the rail as well. “You’re really something else, Romanoff.”

What he’d just said mirrors what she’d told him over dinner, and Natasha notices it. Before she could reply though, Steve looks at her, and there’s this sort of look on his face that tells her that he wants to say something, but is somehow hesitant. “What is it?” She asks. “There’s something you want to say.”

He shakes his head once. “No, I just...it’s just a thought. Nevermind.”

“I want to hear it.” Natasha presses on gently, too curious to just let this slide. 

Steve is still hesitating, but he opens and closes his mouth a few times. She waits for him patiently, until the words finally stumble out slowly. “If you’re this good in skating, I wonder how good you are in dancing.”

The way he uttered that sentence, ever so carefully and cautious; it is as though Steve doesn’t want to hurt her, to remind her of a past she had to leave behind due to unforeseen circumstances. That underlying care he is showing her sends another round of warmth unfurling within her just as Natasha softens her expression. When she remains silent, a look of worry starts to appear on his face, mild hint of regret for saying those words out loud. “Nat, I’m sorry if I -”

He is interrupted when she touches his arm gently, taking a tentative step closer to him. “There’s nothing to apologise for.” Natasha sighs. “I appreciate that you’re being careful around me, but you really don’t have to.”

Steve could only nod, offering her a small smile which she returns. “Let’s continue skating.” Natasha announces, and without saying anything else, fits her gloved hands perfectly into his. She pulls him towards her as she starts skating backwards, moving slowly, each step measured and calculative. They don’t speak, but the void of silence between them is filled by the traditional Christmas tunes playing from the rink’s loudspeakers, and the chattering and laughter of other people which surround them like a blanket. Because of their proximity, Steve eventually finds himself lost in the forest of her green irises - it only just dawns upon him that she has the prettiest eyes ever; bright and glimmering with a feeling that he is slowly learning to associate with that of tranquility and trust. Steve spots the flush on her cheeks and the tip of her nose from the cold of the weather, his heart hammering beneath his chest; the world fades away, and nothing else seems to matter but that moment alone.

As he tightens his grip around her hands, Steve wishes for time to stop. So he could capture this moment into his memory forever. He doesn’t want to ever forget; this feeling he hadn't felt in the longest of time. In that fleeting moment, Steve has forgotten that this woman in front of him is supposed to be his best friend’s girlfriend. In that fleeting moment, Steve sees only  _ her _ .

At that thought, that one second of awful realisation, Steve nearly trips on his two feet. 

* * *

When Natasha steps into the Gallery, she honestly has no expectations of what is waiting for her behind those closed glass doors. This is her first time ever going to an Art exhibition, and she silently hopes she won’t be sticking out like a sore thumb - everyone seems to know everyone here, and they  _ all _ seem to have vast opinions (which she feels may not even be necessary) about the artworks on the walls. 

The crowd is decent, Natasha thinks to herself, side-stepping to avoid bumping into a man. She’s a little bit lost, not knowing where to go, eyes still searching for the only person she could possibly know in this space. When she couldn’t find Steve, Natasha resorts to focusing on the walls instead, eyes studying each and every painting and sketches carefully.

A sort of pleasant and warm feeling slowly unfurls within her stomach the longer she appreciates at the artworks in front of her - of a sense of pride that comes with the knowledge that these wonderful paintings were done by someone she knows. Natasha may not know much about art, but she knows enough to see that each stroke was painted with utmost care and love, as if Steve had poured his entire soul in each artwork - they were absolutely beautiful, and she finds her heart skipping a beat.

Natasha walks from one end to another, marveling in the different themes and subjects of Steve’s art. He told her before that his art style is realism, so Natasha sees many portraits and still-life that centered around nature and mostly sceneries. They were breathtaking, to say the least, and Natasha couldn’t help but be awed at what she sees in front of her. 

While she had been busy exploring the Gallery, Steve had been busy entertaining his sponsors. It has taken him quite some time to explain everything to the lady CEO of Stark Industries - Pepper Potts, but by the end of their conversation, she’d given him a pat on the shoulder and praised him for a job well done. He manages a smile of gratitude, his stomach still filled with nervous butterflies as he starts to take in the crowd surrounding his every piece of hard work. That’s when he spots the familiar redhead standing with her back facing him, near the corner of the Gallery - immediately, his heart begins to race, mild excitement replacing the butterflies in his stomach. Without a second thought, Steve starts to make his way towards her, eventually stopping just a few steps behind her. 

For some reason, he could feel his palms begin to sweat - good lord, why was he this nervous? Steve’s throat is suddenly dry, his mind oddly blank, and before he could call out her name, the man beside her starts to speak to her.

“What do you think of this art?” He asks, and Steve watches how Natasha glances to her side, a little surprised that someone had asked her a question. She looks at the man for two seconds before diverting her gaze back at the painting of flowers in front of her.

“It’s beautiful.” She says sincerely, then adds as an afterthought. “I like the blend of colors, and the differing strokes.”

Steve feels himself smiling slightly at those words, though it falters the second the man begins to speak again. 

“Too bad it lacks individuality.” 

Natasha frowns immediately, glancing at the man again. “Sorry?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve seen similar paintings like this before. No offence to the artist, but it doesn’t quite elude uniqueness.” 

In all honesty, Steve is used to hearing criticisms like this. He welcomes and holds them all with balanced weight for improvement, hoping it would make him grow as an artist, yet he wouldn’t allow such comments to tear his confidence down. In hindsight, he takes in the man’s words carefully, compartmentalising it as a constructive criticism. 

“Do you know the artist?” Natasha speaks a second after, and when the man shakes his head, she pauses. “I do.”

This time, the man glances at her instead, waiting for her to elaborate. 

“I don’t know much about uniqueness,” She confesses, but maintains her tone of civility. “But individuality, and uniqueness...in my opinion, are mutually exclusive.”

Steve watches the scene unfold in front of him silently, heart beginning to race as Natasha continues. “Yes, there may already be many paintings of a similar nature out there - roses, daffodils, a bouquet of flowers. There’s only _ so _ much flowers in the world for an artist to paint.” 

The corner of Steve’s lips curl upwards, the hint of sarcasm in Natasha’s tone not lost. 

“But when I see these paintings,” Natasha gestures at the wall in front of her. “I don’t just see flowers. I see Steve Rogers. I see his personality in each brush stroke, every minute detail of how he is as a person. These aren’t just art. These are  _ his  _ art.” She turns to look at the man again. “Isn’t that the concept of individuality you speak of?”

“Well,” The man grumbles a little, then shrugs. He straightens his back and starts to move away. “You say that only because you know him. Good day, miss.”

“Good day, sir.” Natasha replies, then follows the man with her eyes as he edges away quickly. She regards him with this sort of stare that Steve finds extremely endearing, and when Natasha turns around fully, and inevitably meets Steve’s gaze, her mouth forms a slight ‘o’. For a moment there, she freezes in her position, unsure of what to say just as Steve sees the faint blush streaking across her face. 

Steve smiles, taking two steps closer to her. “You came.”

Natasha recomposes herself, clearing her throat - did Steve hear what she’d said to that man earlier? “I promised, didn’t I?”

“That you did.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Uh, thanks for that little commentary you just made.”

She flushes - so he  _ did _ hear her earlier. “They’re the truth, Steve. You should be proud of yourself.”

He flashes her a grin - one that is sheepish and dopey, and Natasha could feel her heart begin to thunder. “So I take it that you like what you’ve just seen.” 

“I do,” Natasha nods quickly. “You have talent, Rogers.”

It isn’t validation that Steve seeks when he decided to have his first art exhibition - but hearing those words from Natasha stirred an emotion within him that Steve didn’t expect to feel. It nearly throws him off guard, the way she’d said that in a tone of conviction, of confidence in someone she’d just met not too long ago. Steve feels a lump latching itself onto his throat as he struggles to reply her - how could he even begin to form his thoughts in words that could truly convey how he feels hearing that simple phrase from her?

She’s smiling at him again, and Steve swears he almost stops breathing. His heart pounds, hands begin to sweat again - this is all jarring to him, the last time he had felt this way was years back with the woman he was so sure he would marry. Steve’s breath hitches in shock as realisation hits him squarely, hard and fast. He stares back at Natasha, wide-eyed, mouth agape as the latter’s smile falters, replacing itself with a frown. “Steve? Are you okay?”

_ Oh no _ .  _ Noooo. No. It can’t be-  _

“Shit.” is all Steve manages to say in the end.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a little (just a liiiiiittle, like a smudge, a sprinkle of) angst in the chapters to come. This isn't going to be that long of a fic by the way, it should end in 3 more chapters I think? 
> 
> As usual, comments are appreciated, and thank you for reading!!! ^^


	5. i'm dreaming of a white christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of coming to terms with their feelings, a snowball fight and an encounter in the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the interesting part he-he.  
> Also, I highly doubt I can complete this fic by Christmas :/

The next time Steve visits Bucky, his heart had sunk to the bottomless depths of his stomach, a quiet admittance as he comes to terms with his newly found feelings for one particular redhead. When he sees his best friend still fast asleep on the hospital bed, knowing nothing of what is transpiring before his eyes, Steve is overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt. He tries to keep his cool though, having a normal conversation with his best friend, until he eventually runs out of topic and all he could think of is to ask Bucky, no, tell him, about the one person who wouldn’t seem to leave his mind for  _ days _ . 

“How did you even know that she is the one for you?” Steve asks, his hands folded on his lap. “Like, did you just enter the bookstore, saw her, and then went  _ wow, I am going to marry her one day _ ? Was that what happened, Buck? Because if it was, I honestly am not surprised. Natasha definitely does have that effect on people. She has charmed her way to the rest of your family, by the way. Your grandmother adores her, I think she’s knitting a Christmas sweater for her as we speak.”

Steve recalls how he’d wandered into the Barnes residence one evening and found Bucky’s grandmother busy knitting a beige sweater. He’d asked her who that sweater is for, considering that everyone else had already gotten theirs a week back. Bucky’s grandmother had flashed him a grin and told him in a matter-of-fact tone -  _ why, Natasha, of course! _

“Right, by the way. I’ve been spending time with her, getting to know her, and I can...I can understand why you fell in love with her, Buck. It’s just so...it’s so easy to be lost in her words and her antics. She’s a real natural, that Natasha.” He pauses, then continues a few seconds after. “So I brought up this Christmas bucket list arrangement for her. I asked her to think of things she wanted to do for Christmas but never had the chance to, because honestly, how is it that your girl has never celebrated Christmas?” Steve chuckles lightly. “I thought I would be doing her a favor, plus it would be a great way to get to know the woman you want to marry. But then it dawned upon me that this entire arrangement wasn’t just a one way street. I can’t really explain, Buck, but she...she has a good heart and she made me...feel things again.”

Steve nibbles his lower lip, then expels a loud sigh. “You’re going to judge me so hard for saying this. But I’m going to tell you anyway, because we promised not to keep secrets from each other. Natasha...she’s wonderful. She’s funny, genuine and incredibly witty. Just...the way she carries herself. Spending time with her comes so easily and comfortably. She’s truly something else, you know?” He laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, of course you know. You’re her boyfriend. And I just think...you’re really, really lucky.”

Steve inhales and exhales his breath slowly. “Hey Buck?” He pauses for a long time. “I think I owe you an apology. Because...”

Steve sighs, shaking his head as he changes his sentence. “I just wanted you to know that I _ like _ her. A  _ lot _ . It’s crazy, trust me, I  _ know _ . But it just  _ happened _ and I can’t believe I’m saying this to you - if you could hear me, you’ll probably want to punch me for violating our bro code. I mean, of course, I’m  _ not _ going to do or say anything to her - she’s  _ your  _ girl. I really -” 

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is so _ fucked  _ up, isn’t it? God, what am I even doing? Can you please wake up now? Wake up so that you can yell at me, give me a reality check. Please, Bucky. Please wake up before I go crazy and do something I would regret.”

Steve waits, hoping for a sign that his words reached his best friend, hoping for some sort of reaction at the very least. Seconds pass, then minutes - and eventually, Steve slumps back into his chair, clear disappointment spreading across his heart. He has absolutely no idea what to do. 

* * *

“So do you like him or not?”

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but finds herself closing it a second after. Her mind is in a state of incoherent jumble as she struggles to find the words. Maria waits though, as she always does, tapping her feet patiently on the floor. “Natasha, it’s a simple question.”

“I honestly don’t know.” She heaves a sigh in the end. “I’d like to think that I do, but... _ I don’t know _ !”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Maria waves her hand exasperatedly in the air. “Do you think about him every chance you get? Do you automatically smile when he texts you? Do you look up whenever the bell rings in our front door? Do you go to bed thinking about him, wanting to talk to him, wanting to wish him goodnight?”

Natasha chews her inner cheek, feeling her face heating up at every word Maria had just thrown into her direction - she really hates to admit it, but when her best friend had put it in that way, there is clearly no other answer that she could possibly give except a resounding and firm  _ Yes _ .

“But-” Instead, she starts with this word, and Maria is quick to cut her mid-sentence. “No buts!” Her best friend warns. “This isn’t supposed to be complicated. It’s either you like him, or you don’t like him. It’s pretty darn clear that you do, so what’s the problem, Nat?”

“I don’t even know if he likes me in that sense.” Natasha grumbles in the end. “Plus, his best friend is still in a coma and  _ I  _ was the cause of all that, have you forgotten?”

Maria rolls her eyes. “I hardly thinks he cares about that, Nat.”

Natasha shakes her head. “You don’t understand...James means the world to him.”

“What  _ I  _ don’t understand is that if he feels nothing for you, why would he go through all that length to celebrate this season with you?” Maria tries to reason. “There has to be a reason why, and I’m betting that it is because he  _ likes  _ you.”

“He might just be a martyr for all you know.” Natasha retorts back. “And I could absolutely vouch for that, because that man has a heart of gold! There’s no...there’s no way he would like someone like me.”

“Natasha,  _ stop _ .” Maria reaches for her best friend’s hand, grasping it tightly so that she would look at her. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

She heaves a sigh, nodding. “Right, you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just...I can’t help it sometimes. I’m not used to being around someone like him. Someone who would...you know, open doors for me, hold my coat for me. It’s too good to be true.”

“But it  _ is _ true.” Maria says firmly. “And Steve is obviously a perfect example that guys like that still exists. You deserve the world, Natasha, and if he could give you that -”

“Whoa,” Natasha waves a hand in the air. “really, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. He’s just a friend.”

“A friend that you  _ clearly _ have feelings for.” Maria grumbles beneath her breath, knowing that the redhead would still hear her. Natasha does; she chooses only to ignore her. “So...what’s in your next agenda?”

“Agenda?” Natasha asks, then realises a beat after. “Oh, you mean the bucket list.”

Maria nods. “Any idea what is next in the list?”

Even though Steve hasn’t texted her yet, Natasha has this nudging feeling it would be an activity related to the snow, especially since it had begun snowing two evenings ago and there’s no other person she knows who loves a white Christmas as much as Steve does. There’s obvious anticipation in her stomach, but Natasha represses the feeling - in doing so, it does get her to wonder though; Steve hadn’t texted her in days, almost a week, which is quite unusual as he usually would send her simple text messages either to update her about James’ condition, or to just ask how she was doing. The thought flits into her mind just then - maybe, just maybe she should text him this time, ask about his day, and just casually bring up the snow. 

But she mentally shakes her head, lump lodged in her throat. Maria is still waiting for her response, so Natasha replies slowly, honestly. “No, I don’t.” 

She is too stubborn to admit that there is a slight chance that Maria was right, that there was some truth in her statement. So even though Natasha had this incessant curiosity on what Steve is doing, or where he even is at the moment (Maria thinks it isn’t curiosity, but  _ longing _ \- Natasha ignores her briskly), she refrains from picking up her phone to text him. 

Natasha goes about doing her daily routine, her life slowly falling back into that of mundane where she has nothing to look forward to, dull and monochromatic colours reclaiming what was rightfully theirs through her lenses. Although Natasha doesn’t dwell on the sudden disappearance of her friend, she still finds herself looking up on reflex towards the door every time the bell rings. (It’s not him). And when her phone alerts her of a new message, she would glance at her screen hoping that it is a text from Steve. (It isn’t).

Frustrated with herself, Natasha has come to a quiet acceptance that maybe,  _ perhaps, _ sort of,  _ most probably,  _ she  _ does _ have feelings for Steve Rogers. She doesn’t say it out loud though, not wanting to give Maria the satisfaction of being proven right. In trying to reconcile this new found realisation of hers, one that hasn’t truly sunk in yet given how  _ long  _ it has been since she’d ever felt this way for someone, Natasha decides to finally pick up her phone and call…

Rebecca.

* * *

And that is how Natasha finds herself in front of the Barnes residence on Saturday morning with the kids frolicking around the snow in their bright yellow boots. Naturally, when she called Rebecca under the guise of wanting to know how the rest of the family was doing, the latter had instantaneously invited her over for lunch that same weekend. Natasha hadn’t expected that invitation, since her sole intention was just to find out if Steve was doing alright - Rebecca had been _ way  _ more enthusiastic than she expected when she answered her call, telling her that her mother and grandmother had missed her and were wondering how  _ she  _ was doing. 

So of course she  _ had _ to go.

With Julie, Sandra and Emily engaging in a snowball fight with each other, Natasha resorts to helping little George with building a snowman - which then inevitably makes her think of Steve and his short rendition of the Frozen soundtrack. She huffs, annoyed that he’d once again wormed himself into her mind without invitation, and without realising that she’d exerted too much force, Natasha accidentally crushes the snowman’s head into pieces. 

“Oh, fuck me.” She curses under her breath just as George looks up at her with wide eyes.

“What’s ‘fuck me’?” He asks innocently, and Natasha lets out this half strangled cry of regret before putting on the best smile she could muster and saying, “Georgie, please,  _ please _ forget ever hearing that. It  _ doesn’t  _ mean anything. Please  _ don’t  _ tell your parents I said that, please?”

George looks confused, but nods his head obediently anyway. Just as Natasha lets out a sigh of relief, someone clears their throat behind her, and she literally jumps up in shock. “Christ!”

“Did you really just utter a vulgar word in front of a six year old?”

Natasha recognises the voice - she would recognise it  _ anywhere _ (she hates knowing this fact) and immediately turns a beetroot red at having been caught redhanded corrupting the mind of an innocent child. Natasha sucks in her breath, meeting his amused gaze embarrassingly. “So I guess that’s my cue to leave. Please tell Rebecca it was nice knowing her.” She says, and starts to  _ actually  _ turn around and leave, when Steve catches her wrist with a laugh escaping his lips. “Wait, don’t go.” 

Natasha glances down at her hand instantly at the same time Steve realises what he’d done - and he drops her wrist from his grasp quickly. She faces him slowly, tucking her hands behind her back. “Look who the wind blew in,” She says easily, trying to ease the sudden tension between them. For some reason, Steve couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, stranger.”

“Oh, yeah,” He manages a small smile, a hint of red on his cheeks. “I was really busy these few days.”

Something Natasha has learned over the days of knowing him is that Steve is a terrible liar. She sees it in the way he is fidgeting, eyes wavering as he looks at the ground instead. But Natasha doesn’t think it is her place to push him into telling the truth though, so she leaves it as that, even though it stings her heart a little that he’s acting so withdrawn towards her all of a sudden.

“You must be really happy,” She starts again a few seconds after. “that it’s already snowing.”

“Oh.” Steve looks at her briefly. “Yeah.”

Natasha frowns, noticing that Steve is not quite himself this morning. She would have expected him to be more enthusiastic with the snow, but Steve seemed rather distracted, as though something is bothering him and he couldn’t help but worry. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Steve’s eyes widen; another unexpected reaction from him towards a simple question. His forehead creases just as he stammers out an answer. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha tilts her head in slight worry, and that gesture is enough for Steve to feel all the more guilty than he already is. She attempts a joke, asking him, “is...the _ cold _ bothering you?” 

Steve smiles on reflex, understanding her reference. “ _ The cold never bothered me anyway. _ ” He sings, and Natasha laughs - hearing her laughter is enough to send another tidal wave into Steve’s heart, one that he has absolutely no control over. He bit his inner cheek, swallowing the urge to laugh along with her. 

Before Natasha could speak again, she sees a snowball whisking across the air, landing with a  _ smack  _ onto Steve’s waist. She stifles a laugh just as he turns at once, hearing the ensuing laughter from Julie, Sandra and Emily as they break into a run. “You little devils!” Steve laughs as well, bending to scoop some snow into his palm. “Oh, you better hide because I’m coming to get you!”

“Try and catch us if you can!” Emily yells, and another snowball flies through the air and this time, hits Natasha’s back. She gives a little yelp at the sudden cold contact - she feels it even with the extra layer she has on. For a brief second, she exchanges a glint of mischief with Steve, and really, no words are needed - they know what to do next. 

The girls are giggling when Steve tosses the snowball he’d made into their direction - it’s a flail attempt, one that Natasha knows to be on purpose, because the ball lands short on their feet. “You missed, Uncle Steve!” Julie yells, still laughing as she moves away quickly. 

“Darn my aim!” Steve pretends to groan loudly - and Natasha couldn’t help but to smile;  _ how adorable can he get? _ It’s her turn now, and unlike Steve, she has no hesitation in launching her snowball directly towards where Emily is standing. She squeals, ducking, and the snowball barely misses her. 

The snowball fight continues for at least another ten minutes, all six of them (with Steve helping George with making his own snowballs) running around the yard throwing snowballs at each other - midway through, the alliance formed between Steve and Natasha is eventually forgotten and ceremoniously broken when one of Steve’s snowball ends up hitting Natasha’s side instead of Sandra. 

“You’re on, Rogers!” She announces with fiery determination, digging her fingers into the snow to mold an even larger snowball. Steve laughs, preparing to run for his dear life as Natasha starts to chase after him. She gets as close as she can to ensure her aim would hit its target before sending the snowball sailing through the air - it hits Steve’s back, and she celebrates with a little victory dance.

It lasted exactly three seconds, because Steve sends his right into Natasha’s arm. They’re relentless in this little competition they’ve brought upon themselves, cheeks red from the cold and excitement, laughter filling the air. The children start to giggle watching their competitive streaks, not at all bothered by the fact that they’ve been left forgotten and standing by the side just watching them. 

“You’re  _ terrible  _ at this, Rogers!” Natasha shouts, narrowly avoiding getting hit by one of his snowballs. 

“You’re one to talk, Romanoff!” Steve returns with a laugh. 

“Do you wish to yield?” She’s suddenly right in front of him with another snowball in her hand and a smug grin on her face. 

Steve shakes his head. “Never!”

“Thought so.” Natasha grins, and prepares to launch her final snowball attack on the man in front of her - except that she loses her footing, slips in the snow, and suddenly she is falling. In that second, Steve reaches for her immediately, wanting to help.

She ends up pulling him down with her and they both fall into laughter, faces inches away from each other. Their eyes meet, and suddenly, Natasha forgets how to breathe. A thought crosses her mind as her gaze flickers ever so slightly towards his lips; Natasha wonders how it would feel like if she just leans up and - 

Steve lets go of her arms as he pushes himself away from her. Scrambling up with flushed cheeks, he avoids looking at her as he ceremoniously dusts snow from his pants. Natasha herself had flushed, pushing away the thought quickly, almost embarrassingly as though it was  _ wrong  _ for her to even want to kiss those plump lips of his -  _ oh god please stop thinking about kissing him, Natasha _ .

Even though his ears have gone entirely red, Steve still holds a hand out for her. She accepts it with a soft thank you, just as they hear Rebecca yelling that lunch is ready. The kids rush inside without a word, scurrying across the backyard and leaving just the two of them in the backyard, struggling to find for words suddenly.

“So…” Steve rubs the nape of his neck nervously. “Shall we?” 

“Y-yeah, let’s.” Natasha states the obvious, and the both of them start for the backdoor quietly, that hint of awkwardness from earlier returning. She could only wonder what has happened in that one week after she’d gone for his art exhibition, because Steve is clearly acting out of the ordinary and a little bit strange, quite unlike his usual friendly demeanour. 

The second Natasha steps into the Barnes’ residence though, all thoughts about Steve is forgotten, because James’ grandmother rushes to her side and thrusts a beige coloured sweater into her hands. Her eyes widen as she glances down at it, knowing immediately that this was  _ knitted _ , and her thoughts fly to when Steve told her that his grandmother would knit sweaters for the family every Christmas. 

“A gift for you, darling.” Grandma Barnes says warmly, grasping onto her hand affectionately. “I hope you like it.”

“I-I,” She stammers, not knowing what to say. Steve watches the exchange in silence, smiling just a little. “You really didn’t have to, I’m not even your-”

“I  _ wanted  _ to, so I  _ did _ .” She pats Natasha’s cheek once. “Just accept it, darling.”

There’s an inexplicable warmth that fills her stomach almost at once, and for a few seconds there, Natasha nearly tears up. She wonders what she’d done to deserve this hospitality and adoration from James’ family. In the end, Natasha gives James’ grandmother a tight hug, thanking her affectionately. When she pulls back to search for Steve, Natasha frowns in realisation that he was no longer in the room.

* * *

Not only did Natasha stay after lunch, she stayed the entire day and even for dinner at Winnifred’s insistence. Most of the time after lunch was spent in the living room with her and Rebecca as they chatted about anything they could think about. She barely even saw Steve after that, not until it was closer to dinner when he rejoined everyone else in the living room - even then, he sat in the furthest chair away from Natasha, and she was mildly disappointed that she couldn’t talk to him.

After dinner, Natasha finally takes her leave, and Winnifred ushers Steve towards her without a question. “Be a gentleman and walk her home, Steve.” She says with a pat on his arm. 

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to trouble him.” Natasha quickly says upon realising that Steve had widened his eyes a little - a reaction that causes an automatic pang in her heart that she tries to shake away.

“Hush, my dear child.” Winnifred chides, then frowns at Steve. “It isn’t a bother, right, Steve?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it isn’t a bother.”

“See?” Winnifred turns to Natasha again, giving her another warm smile. “It’s too late for a lady to be out walking alone, or sitting in an uber.”

Natasha has no choice but to relent. “Thank you, Winnifred. For lunch and dinner as well.”

James’ mother waves one hand in the air. “Do not mention about it, Natasha. I hope to see you soon, you’ll come again, won’t you?”

At this point, Natasha knows that saying no to the Barnes would only fall on deaf ears, so she nods. “I will.” Winnifred looks extremely pleased with her answer, and leaves them be after giving her one final hug that evening. 

As they bundle up for the weather outside, Natasha wonders if she should say something to ease the discomfort in the air. Steve is being awfully quiet again, and he keeps his eyes trained forward, as though she isn’t even there. It pains her to admit that it hurts, just a little.

Finally, after about ten minutes of walking, Natasha softly breaks the silence in the air. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Steve turns to look at her, eyes widening again. “N-no, why would you think that?”

“You seem to be avoiding me.” She says pointedly, unable to meet his eyes.

A few seconds pass before Steve speaks again. “I’m...not, Natasha.”

She shakes her head. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Natasha says it in a tone of ease, with a small smile on her lips - yet it is evident that she is hurt, and Steve knows it. Guilty, Steve finally turns to look at her properly. “I’m sorry. There’s just a lot of things going through my mind at the moment.”

“If you need a pair of listening ears…”

“N-no.” He quickly shakes his head. “It’s not something you can help with.”

“Okay.” Natasha shrugs, relenting in defeat. “If you say so.”

Steve softens his tone immediately. “Natasha, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know, Steve.” She sighs. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

The atmosphere between them becomes tense as they fall into another awkward, uncomfortable silence. Neither looked at each other as they trudged along the slippery pathway slowly, mindful of the snow and their steps. Luckily for them, they’re approaching the shop-lot areas, which would at least mean a louder atmosphere filled with more people - the silence between them by now is so deafening that Natasha welcomes any form of sound from other sources.

She just didn’t expect for a vendor selling bouquets of flowers to approach them, particularly Steve as he asks him loudly; “Flowers for your girlfriend, sir?”

“Uhm,” Steve is flustered, though he halts in his step anyway, darting a quick glance between Natasha and the vendor. His throat is suddenly dry, mind gone blank. “She’s not…”

“It’s only 2 dollars for a stalk of red rose, sir.” The vendor interrupts him enthusiastically, thrusting the flower into Natasha’s hand quickly. “See, the rose is as beautiful as her. Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah.” Steve finds himself nodding in agreement just as he sees the blush forming on Natasha’s face. There’s no way he could decline buying the rose now, so Steve reaches into his pocket for the bills and hands it to the gentleman. “Definitely. She’s more beautiful, though.” He says without a thought, only catching himself after he’d said those words out loud -  _ damn it, those words were supposed to be reserved in his thoughts alone! _

Natasha doesn’t say anything, though her heart is racing madly beneath her skin. Did Steve really mean those words, she wonders to herself. Natasha holds onto the rose a little bit closer, feeling the heat in her cheeks as the vendor moves out of their way and they resume walking. 

“Thanks for the rose.” She whispers.

“You’re welcome.” Steve replies stiffly, and then heaves a sigh. He stops abruptly, causing Natasha to turn when she realises he isn’t walking alongside her anymore. “Steve?” She quirks an eyebrow, wondering why he’d suddenly halted. Natasha sees the look on his face, of conflict and how he seems to want to tell her something - the words don’t come out though, because Natasha sees the way Steve would open and close his mouth a few times. 

“Natasha, maybe…” Steve eventually says. “Maybe I owe you an apology.”

“Whatever for?” She asks, her tone hinting confusion. 

He struggles to elaborate, and just before Steve forms the right sentence in his mouth, he hears someone calling him -

“ _Steve?_ _Oh my, it really is you.”_

The second Steve hears that voice, one that he hasn’t heard in a long time, Steve freezes, eyes widening a little. Natasha notices immediately how his shoulders had gone rigid, his jaw tensed. The brunette who had called him makes her way towards them, smiling slightly as she darts a quick glance towards Natasha, then back at Steve. “Kate. Hey.” He greets politely, yet every body language he is displaying at the moment tells Natasha that Steve wanted very much to just  _ leave _ . Seeing him like this confuses the redhead for a few seconds, but suddenly, something _ clicks _ in her mind. 

She must be his ex fiancee, the one who left him on the altar - that realisation ignites the feeling of annoyance and mild anger within Natasha as she half glares at Kate. 

Kate doesn’t notice Natasha, her gaze transfixed on Steve as she looks - no,  _ judges  _ him from head to toe, as though trying to gauge how he is after what  _ she  _ did to him. She flashes a sort of smile that makes Natasha want to throw up in her mouth. “I saw you from afar but I thought it couldn’t be you since you’re in London, but hey, what do you know?”

The  _ audacity _ of this woman, Natasha feels another surge of frustration coursing in her veins. 

“I’ve been back a while.” Steve replies tersely, wishing she would just go away. His heart is racing and Steve hates himself for reacting this way. Bumping into his ex fiancee in the streets shouldn’t trigger this overwhelming feeling of suffocation when he’d done nothing wrong, but Steve couldn’t help it. He sucks in a deep breath, not knowing where to look - until he feels a hand looping around his arm gently. A little surprised, Steve casts a glance towards his side, and is greeted by the warmest smile from Natasha as she presses closer into him.

“Who’s this, love?” She asks, tilting her head to the side and  _ oh god,  _ Steve feels all words leaving his mind at the way Natasha’s looking at him, the way she’s asking him with her eyes to go along with whatever it is that she’s doing. 

“Sorry,” Steve clears his throat finally. “This is Kate. Uh…”

“Oh,  _ that  _ Kate?” Natasha states with wide, innocent eyes, but her tone suggests none of it. She looks at Kate, who had scowled just a little, understanding her implication clearly. Natasha juts a hand out of politeness, still smiling. “I’m Natasha.”

Kate barely accepts her hand. “Are you Steve’s -”

“Girlfriend?” Natasha interjects easily, then turns back to look at the quiet man beside her. She leans into him, twirling the rose in her hand. “Yes, isn’t that obvious? I didn’t expect to ever see you, Kate, but now that I have, I really must thank you.”

The brunette frowns. “What? Why?”

Steve watches the exchange in silence, a little awed at how natural and smooth Natasha is acting, as though she  _ really  _ is his girlfriend. The lump returns into his throat the second he thinks about that, but Steve ignores that thought for now and focuses on what is transpiring before his eyes. 

Natasha looks up at him, and Steve sees a sort of affection and mild adoration in the way she is gazing into his eyes. The effect she has on him just by that one action alone is almost electrifying, sending a shiver down his spine as his heart skips a beat. She says just then, with a dazzling, genuine smile that Steve is sure to have imprinted itself onto his mind forever; “Because  _ you _ gave me all I ever wanted, the best thing to have happened in my life.”

Steve is rendered speechless, of course, but nothing beats the satisfaction of watching Kate’s expression as she hears those words from Natasha. She squares her shoulders, looking more offended than intended, and Steve had to stifle a laugh that is threatening to escape within him. Natasha ignores Kate, keeping her eyes on his as Steve returns her gesture with a squeeze of her hand. 

Without much thought, except wanting to just  _ piss  _ his ex even more, Steve brings a hand to cup Natasha’s face. Heart still pounding, he brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear in a sweet, loving gesture. “You’re the best thing to have happened in my life too, Nat.”

_ Ha! Take that! _ Steve thinks, holding onto Natasha’s gaze. From an outsider’s point of view, it seems as though both individuals were lost in their little world of love, and Kate has to clear her throat loudly to catch their attention once again. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you Steve, Natasha. I’m glad you found happiness.” Kate blanches with a tight smile and takes a step back. “I need to go now, my husband is waiting for me. Bye, then.”

Kate disappears so quickly that Steve has to blink a few times to decipher if she’s truly gone. He exhales loudly, not realising that he had been holding his breath just as Natasha whispers for him to hear; “Good lord, what did you even  _ see  _ in her? She’s  _ awful _ .”

“She wasn’t like this before.” Steve could only shrug as he takes in Natasha’s words; they do echo within him to a certain degree now that he had truly seen what his ex was capable of doing. And then he remembers Natasha’s spontaneous action of pretending to be his girlfriend, and Steve flushes. He turns to her, saying; “Hey, thank you for that. Really.”

Natasha, just realising that she still has an arm looped around Steve, quickly retracts her hand. “No problem. I’m glad I did it. That look on her face was  _ priceless _ .”

Steve smiles in agreement. “You were  _ amazing _ , Natasha. It almost felt like you weren’t even acting.”

She flashes him a somewhat shy grin, heart fluttering. “Well, what can I say? I’m good at a lot of things.”

“You could even be an actress.” He laughs at her reaction to his statement. “What, you’ve got the talent for it, and clearly, the looks for it too.”

She blushes, his compliment not lost. That’s twice in one night where Steve said she was beautiful. Natasha doesn’t know how to react to that, so she begins to walk again. He falls in tune to her steps beside her. Something is gnawing onto her heart by now, that aching urge to just ask Steve to tell her the truth on why he’d been so distant with her today - there’s definitely something in him that he isn’t telling, and after what had just happened with his ex, Natasha is determined to know  _ what _ . An idea strikes her mind a few seconds after, and she speaks again.

"I seem to recall that you owe me one wish from that time I beat you in the ice skating rink."

Steve pauses, then replies. "Does that mean you want to use that wish now?”

"Why not?" Natasha asks easily.

He shrugs. "Okay, what is it?"

She sucks in a deep breath, then exhales calmly, words easing out of her easily. Natasha turns her head to the side to meet his gaze. "I want you to tell me what's wrong. Why haven’t you texted me for a week, and why you’ve been avoiding me."

Even in the dark, Natasha could see that Steve had gone pale.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can imagine that you guys would be yelling at me to update the next chapter soon hahaha hopefully it would be up in a few days :P
> 
> As usual, comments are appreciated. Lemme know what you think of this chapter and thank you for reading!


	6. all is calm, all is bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of discovery, realisations and a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!

_"I want you to tell me what's wrong. Why haven’t you texted me for a week, and why you’ve been avoiding me."_

The second Steve hears that, he pales and his heart begins to thunder under his skin. Suddenly, his mind goes blank, mouth slightly agape as all he could do is stare wide-eyed at the redhead beside him. They had stopped walking by then. Natasha crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, as if to tell him that unless he spills the beans, she’s more than willing to wait all night for an explanation of his strange behaviour.

“I, uh…” He could feel his throat constricting. “I don’t know...I...it’s complicated.”

“Why don’t you _try_ me?” Natasha challenges, refusing to back down. “Steve, I can handle it. Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

Perhaps it’s the way she’s looking at him, her gaze earnest, worry streaking across her expression the longer he stays silent - but Steve has this sudden urge to just tell her the truth, even if it means painting himself in the worst possible light. He thinks she deserves that, at the very least, for being nothing but supportive and a good friend to him. Natasha opens her mouth and closes it, and Steve could see the flash of underlying sadness in her eyes. “Was it something I said in the gallery?” She asks slowly. “You were completely fine before that evening.” 

It hurts Steve that Natasha thinks his odd behaviour is because of something she’d done when quite literally she’d done nothing but be herself. If anyone or anything is to be blamed, it is his own feelings that he couldn’t control - it made him feel _terrible_ , Bucky and Natasha did not deserve this at all.

He tries his best to gather the words in his mouth. “What’s wrong is that -”

Natasha waits as Steve pauses and heaves a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair in obvious frustration, eyes unable to meet her gaze. Steve mumbles something beneath his breath, and Natasha blinks, quite surprised to hear those words that she is sure her ears had deceived her. “I’m sorry?” She asks, wanting for him to repeat the words he’d just said.

This time, Steve looks directly into her eyes, and when the words leave his mouth, Natasha is washed with a tingle spreading throughout her entire body. 

“- I want to _kiss_ you.” was what Steve said, the second time louder and with much clarity than before. He gnaws on his lower lip as Natasha’s jaw drops open slightly, clearly surprised with what she’d just heard. The next few words stumble out of Steve’s mouth hurriedly before he could even stop himself. "I know it's wrong, and I know I shouldn't even be _thinking_ about this but I am and I can't help it."

Natasha pushes down the lump lodged in her throat. She thinks of Maria’s words, thinks of what her best friend had been trying to tell her for months - about learning how to open her heart again, to give love another chance. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, _this_ is it. This could very much be that chance Maria had been telling her about, the one Natasha had said she would take if and when she finds the right person. Perhaps that right person is standing beside her now - this could be another chance for happiness if she plays her cards right. 

“Then kiss me, Steve.” She takes a tentative step towards him. “Why are you hesitating?”

When she uttered those words, Natasha wouldn’t have expected the reaction Steve is giving her right now - the clear look of aghast as his jaw dropped in horror, as though she had just suggested the unthinkable. It confuses her that he had reacted so strongly to her statement, especially since the words she'd said were words of reciprocity, words in response to _his_ statement. Steve shakes his head in disbelief. “ _What_?”

She has no idea if Steve is just some level of prude and innocence, but Natasha feels a tad bit annoyed at this confusing push and pull he is displaying. Didn’t he just tell her that he wants to kiss her? What is wrong with him? “If you want to kiss me,” She cocks her hands on her hips. “Then _kiss_ me!”

At this point, _Steve_ himself got annoyed, his heart still pounding irrationally fast beneath his chest - she couldn’t have just said _that_ right to his face now, could she? How could Natasha even _think_ of those words, how could she do that to _Bucky?_ “I cannot fucking believe this.” He hisses, part angry at himself and part angry at her.

She blinks, doing a double take. “ _Excuse me_?”

Steve rubs his temple. “Please tell me you didn’t just _say_ that.”

Natasha is genuinely confused, her eyebrows furrowed together. “ _What_ did I say that offended you so suddenly?”

“You asked me to kiss you!” Steve sputters, his tone hinting that he was upset at that thought - Natasha _really_ couldn’t understand what is running through his mind. 

“Would that be the worst thing on earth?” She retorts in return. “You’re acting like you didn’t just tell me that you wanted to kiss me! What is wrong with _you_?”

“What is wrong with _me?_ ” Steve clenches his fist in frustration. “You were the one who -”

“You know what?” Natasha waves a hand at his direction, as if to dismiss him. “This is _exhausting_ . I have no fucking idea what is in your head Steve, but if it makes you this uncomfortable, then _forget_ I said anything.”

She turns in her heels, taking a few steps forward. Natasha doesn’t care if he is even following her, because this night just took a disastrous turn and frankly speaking, she wants to _run_. There’s an ache that’s tearing her heart apart just thinking about the implication of Steve’s action, his refusal to kiss her, and it is sending her into a state of embarrassment for even thinking that he reciprocates her feelings.

But Steve chases after her anyway, grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “Wait!”

She turns to face him again, hurt evident in her eyes. Natasha wrenches her arm away and takes a step back, looking down on the floor.

“I need an explanation from you.” Steve says, his tone hard. He doesn’t wait for her to look at him or say something. “How could you even think to do that to Bucky?”

Natasha whips her head towards him, forehead creasing. “ _What_?”

Steve sighs in frustration. “How could you asked me to kiss you when Bucky is _right_ there in the picture?”

She keeps mum, her mind in an incoherent state of confusion. She tries to understand his words, but no matter how much Natasha tries to wrap her head around them, she just couldn’t seem to fathom what he meant.

But Steve continues even in the silence, changing his line of thoughts. “I haven’t been a good friend to him lately.” He elaborates, nibbling his lower lip, eyes unable to meet hers. “I’ve been far from being a good brother to him.”

She frowns, the crease on her forehead deepens. “I don’t quite follow you, Steve.”

There’s a long pause, one that stretches for a solid minute. Natasha could hear her heart pounding madly beneath her chest, wondering what it is that is troubling Steve, because she has never seen him at this state of vulnerability and to some extent, guilt that she couldn’t seem to comprehend.

“You.” Steve finally admits out loud. “I’m talking about _you_.”

“ _Me_?” She stares back incredulously, baffled at his words.

Somehow, her response infuriates Steve even more as he finally blurts out; “How could you asked me to kiss you knowing full well that I’m your _boyfriend_ ’s best friend?”

It takes a few seconds for his words to truly sink in. Natasha’s eyes widens in pure bewilderment. “My _what_?”

This time, Steve is the one who is perplexed by her reaction - why does she look so _clueless?_ The way she is reacting to his question as though he just spoke in pig latin or some other foreign language. “Boyfriend?” He repeats, almost exasperatedly. “Future _fiance_?”

For a few seconds, Natasha is speechless. Her jaw drops open as she stares unblinkingly at Steve. It takes her a moment to truly digest what he had just told her as her mind rewinds all the things Steve had just said to her, about wanting to kiss her, and then being absolutely horrified when she asked him to do just that. It all made _sense,_ and she is rendered momentarily stunned.

And then, without warning, Natasha dissolves into fits of laughter, tears in her eyes. The entirety of how ridiculous this situation is finally hits her squarely in the head, and Natasha couldn’t stop laughing. 

By then, it is quite evident that Steve is flummoxed and somewhat speechless, because he didn’t think he had said anything that could warrant such a huge comedic reaction from the redhead. He finds his voice eventually. “Natasha, _why_ are you laughing?”

“Why on _earth_ did you think I am James’ girlfriend?” She clutches her stomach, trying her best to calm down. “Because I’m _not._ I barely even know him!”

That sentence is the _last_ thing Steve would have ever expected to hear from Natasha. His eyes widen, jaw dropping in horror. Steve stammers when he answers her question, “The...the nurse said so.”

“The _what_?” Natasha is in complete disbelief, though she had finally stopped laughing.

It takes a longer time for the entire exchange to sink in, but when it does, Steve is overwhelmed with mild annoyance - that this _entire_ time he had _misunderstood_ Natasha’s relationship with his best friend? That she isn’t really his - “The nurse told me you are Bucky’s girlfriend and that he may even propose to you!”

It is evidently clear by now that Natasha’s expression has gradually transformed from amusement to that of trepidation. “Why would she say th - _oh_ ,” She gasps out loud, recalling the moment when Maria had entered the ward and said - 

“Oh my god,” Natasha groans, slapping one hand against her forehead. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

_“What?”_

“Maria was teasing me about James being my future husband and the nurse misunderstood!” She elaborates in a haste, words stumbling out. “It was an inside joke between us, but I can assure you that I am _not_ his girlfriend.”

Steve gulps when another realisation hits him. “Oh _no._ That would mean that I’ve conveyed the wrong information to Becky...”

“ _Wait_ ,” At his words, Natasha recalls all of the moments that had transpired in the past weeks, the hospitality she’d received from the Barnes, the knitted sweater in her bag. “hold on, you’re telling me that all this time, the entire family thought I was...oh, _fuck_.”

Natasha is absolutely _horrified._ There is a sinking feeling of discomfort in her stomach as she feels a headache settling onto the base of her head. Suddenly, the comedic aspect of this misunderstanding dissipated into the air entirely - she does not feel like laughing anymore. In fact, she feels _sick._

And Steve - he realises that. He realises at once how much his words have impacted Natasha, because the latter had gone so pale that he is instantly worried she is going to faint. Steve rushes forward, holding out his hands. “Natasha, I -”

She flinches at his contact, taking two steps back in a stagger. When she looks at him, Steve sees the hurt flashing across her face. “So all this while, everyone treated me nicely because they thought I was James’ girlfriend.” 

“Yes, but -”

She silences him with a sharp wave of her hand. Natasha feels nauseous, her other hand clutching against her stomach. “Right...that makes perfect sense.” She mumbles, then closes her eyes to take everything in. 

Of course. It all made sense. Why else would strangers treat her so nicely if not because of a misunderstanding? There was simply no other reason for them to treat her with so much kindness, inviting her for Thanksgiving, a dinner meant only for family. Why would their grandmother knit a sweater for her if not because she thought she was her grandson’s girlfriend? Everything _finally_ made sense.

Natasha’s head is spinning - before she could come to an acceptance that her relationships with the Barnes were superfluous, it sinks into her that Steve had probably suggested making the Christmas bucket list with her for that very reason that he felt compelled to as Bucky’s best friend. Now that the cat was out of the bag, Natasha feels utterly _annoyed_ at herself for even _going along_ with everything that was founded upon a basis of a misunderstanding, a _lie_. 

“How could you not have known?” Natasha speaks again after a while, her tone incredulous, somewhat accusing - it is to hide the fact that she feels hurt beyond belief. “You’re his _best friend_! You’re supposed to _know_ if he’s in a relationship or not instead of trusting the words of a random _nurse_ that doesn’t even know James!”

“I...I was away for so long, and I assumed Bucky didn’t tell us because of what happened to me with Kate.” Steve tries to explain, but it doesn’t seem like any of his words had gotten through to Natasha, because the redhead had taken another step back, eyes on the floor. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. “Natasha, wait. You said so yourself, this is all a misunderstanding. I’m sure if -”

“I was happy.” Natasha interjects, forcing herself to look at him so he could see her expression. She doesn’t know she still has it in her; but she manages a small, pained smile. “I was actually _happy_. But now, all I feel is how I was cheated of this happiness. This... _facade_.”

“Natasha, you know that Winnifred and Becky adore you. Everyone in the Barnes family _loves_ you for you.” Steve says desperately, hoping his words would reach her. There’s an inkling in him that Natasha is taking this harder than he would have expected her to, and deep down Steve couldn’t blame her for feeling that way.

She shakes her head fervently. “On the basis of something that doesn't even exist. They only like me because they _thought_ I was James’ girlfriend.”

“That’s _not_ true -”

“What about you?” Natasha asks, her voice suddenly tired. “You wouldn’t even have batted an eyelash into my direction if not because you thought you had some sort of obligation to treat me nicely.”

“ _No_ !” Steve is horrified to hear that. “Natasha, _why_ are you saying things like this? Yes, it’s true that initially, I invited you out for dinner because I thought you were Bucky’s girlfriend and that I wanted to get to know you better. But over the time we have spent with each other, I’ve genuinely enjoyed your company. You were like a breath of fresh air that I very much needed in my life. You weren’t an obligation. You _never_ were _._ ” 

Natasha remains quiet, and Steve wonders if she’d taken in his words. He exhales, taking a careful step towards her. “You wanted to know why I was avoiding you, didn’t you? I did that because I thought you were Bucky’s girlfriend and that if I kept seeing you, I might end up doing something I would regret as his _brother._ ”

Slowly, she turns her head towards him, glassy eyes now gazing into his - she understood the implication of his words, but Natasha keeps quiet. He takes that as a prompt for him to continue speaking. “I was afraid that if I spent another second with you, I was going to fall even deeper into this...this _feeling_ that I have for you. That I _still_ have for you.” He sucks in a deep breath before exhaling, “Natasha, I _like_ you. I really, really like you.”

Natasha feels the lump returning into her throat, her mind had gone blank, and she doesn’t know how to react to his confession. If she had heard these words from him much earlier, before knowing about the misunderstanding, Natasha is sure that she would have been elated - because she _likes him too_. But now, she isn’t sure anymore. What if he is only saying that to not hurt her? 

Seeing Natasha’s lack of reaction to his confession causes Steve’s heart to race. His hands are starting to sweat out of nervousness, and each passing second in silence feels like a torment to him. Afraid of what that could possibly mean, Steve decides to switch topic before the redhead could say anything he doesn’t want to hear.

“Look, I can assure you that Winnifred would be more than accepting to know that this was all an innocent misunderstanding.” He reasons slowly. “If...if you don’t want to tell them yourself, I could do it on your behalf. This misunderstanding stemmed from me, after all.”

Steve sees the conflict on her face just then, a mixture of expressions which he couldn’t quite decipher. There’s hesitation in her when she replies him. “No. Let me do it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and Natasha nods in confirmation. She looks away with a sigh. “This is my mess, let me be the one to explain it to them. I’ll...I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Steve relents, softening his expression. He tries not to think about how Natasha hasn’t responded to his other statement. She starts to walk away, and he catches up to her easily, falling in tune to her steps. There are so many things Steve wants to tell her, so many things running through his mind - but he believes it isn’t the right time to say any of that, given how dejected Natasha looks. The redhead barely acknowledges him, establishing a sort of impenetrable wall around herself that Steve has no idea how to break through. The rest of the journey back to her place is in utter silence, and even when they arrived, Natasha merely gives him a curt nod of appreciation before disappearing inside. She doesn’t look back.

Steve pretends his heart didn’t break at the sight of how broken Natasha seems to be. 

* * *

Natasha had derived a plan in her head when she arrives at the Barnes’ residence the following evening; she would enter the house, gather everyone in the living room, and apologise before explaining that she isn’t who they thought she was. And then, she would leave and disappear from their lives forever. It is a simple but direct plan, one that she thinks is sufficient to clear the misunderstanding. She doesn’t dare to think of what would happen after that, doesn’t dare to even think about Steve and what he’d confessed to her the night before. 

She had that all planned out - all that is left is to simply execute it.

But the second Winnifred opens the door and beams at her radiantly, all words in her head just...vanished into thin air. Winnifred ushers her into the house quickly after giving her an impromptu hug, asking if she’d eaten, if she had a good sleep the night before. Upon seeing her, the kids ran towards her cheerfully, with George throwing his tiny arms around her legs while the girls grin at her, obvious happiness in their eyes of seeing her again. When Natasha looks up, she sees Steve with Rebecca and Grandma Barnes, the latter already pulling her down towards her so that she could kiss both sides of her cheeks.

Natasha is utterly and completely speechless. 

She is well aware that Steve is looking at her, his gaze a little worried as he waits for her to say something. With everyone in the living room, it seems like a perfect opportunity for her to go straight to her point, but somehow, Natasha...freezes.

“Are you alright, dear?” Grandma Barnes frowns, noticing how pale the redhead had gotten suddenly, a look of alarm etched on her face. “You don’t look too well…”

Almost at once, Winnifred is by her side, one hand outstretched as she presses the back of her palm onto Natasha’s forehead to check her temperature. “No fever, thankfully. Must be the weather. You’re not bundled up enough, Natasha.” She chides her gently, in a motherly, loving way that has her heart skipping a few beats at once.

The lump in her throat seems to grow second after second. Natasha manages to smile at the older lady. “I’m...okay. Actually, I have something to tell all of you.” She exhales, the words she’d rehearsed in her head finally escaping her lips. Everyone’s attention turns to her instantly, waiting for her to continue her sentence. Natasha shifts in her feet uncomfortably, finding Steve’s gaze from across the room - he gives her this little nod of encouragement, coupled with a smile that sends her heart fluttering. Unfortunately, his gesture does little to nothing to offset the anxiety going off in her head. Natasha takes a deep breath.

“I…” She starts, heart thundering beneath her chest, “I wanted to…”

Natasha’s gaze lands on Grandma Barnes, the worry evident on the older woman’s face. Even Rebecca looks genuinely concerned for her, and in that fleeting moment, Natasha realises that she _couldn’t_ say those words. 

“Thank all of you for the kindness you’ve shown me.” She replaces the words without realising, and as she watches how everyone’s face blooms into smiles that could quite literally light up the entire room, Natasha is struck with a feeling of guilt. She couldn’t meet Steve’s confused gaze, instead, she backs for the door. “I need...I’m so sorry, I forgot that I have an appointment.” She smoothly lies. “I need to leave.”

And without waiting for anyone to say anything or attempt to stop her, Natasha rushes out without looking back. She faintly hears Winnifred calling after her name, but she continues ahead, as fast as the snow on the ground could permit her. Blocking out every sound, Natasha reaches the end of the street, turning just around the corner when she feels a hand encircling her upper elbow. She looks over her shoulder and immediately sees Steve staring at her with wide, concerned eyes. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks softly, his tone non-judgmental. 

Natasha takes a deep breath, contemplating if she should tell him the truth. When she sees the way he is looking at her, sincerity laced in his expression, Natasha decides she would. "It's supposed to be easy. I _thought_ it would be easy.” She says shakily, “but I guess I forgot."

Steve doesn’t react to her statement - he figures that the last thing she would want from him is to look at her differently for what she had failed to do. Instead, he asks gently, coaxing her to continue. "What did you forget?"

There is a long pause that ensues as Steve sees Natasha struggling to say the words carved in her heart. Her gaze eventually falters. "What it's like to have a family. To have a grandmother figure, a mother, a sister. Nieces and nephew." Natasha explains quietly. "I've been alone for so many years that I've forgotten how nice it is to have people care for you, to have people ask you about your day, ask if you've eaten. To genuinely care for your well being, if you’ve gotten a good sleep, if you’re well.”

Steve’s expression softens, feeling the sentiment of her words, how they’re slowly echoing within him as he recalls what Natasha had told him before, about not having anyone else but Maria.

“To love, and to be loved. Unconditionally." She whispers, and immediately, he understands what she is alluding to. “I told you before - I had nothing, but suddenly, I was given this...this _family_. I’ve never felt remotely close to how I’ve been feeling in these past weeks - happiness, serenity, _joy_. What if I tell them that they’ve believed something that isn’t true, and I end up losing everything?”

Natasha blinks back tears in her eyes, dejection growing within her - she hates this feeling, hates that her heart had clouded her judgement on doing the right thing. This vulnerability that she is displaying for Steve to see - she _hates_ it. Natasha is ready to move away when Steve grabs her hand to halt her movement.

“Natasha,” She meets his eyes. “You _won’t_ lose them. At the very least, I promise... you won’t lose _me_.” Steve takes another deep breath, tightening his grip. “I’m here.” He exhales. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Natasha shakes her head. “But why? You don’t have to. There’s no reason for you to do that.”

He couldn’t answer her immediately, leaving a window of opportunity for Natasha to answer her own question. “I’ll tell you why. Because you _pity_ me. Because I have no family here.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “Steve, I _don’t_ want your pity. I _don’t_ want to be your sentimental charity.”

“You’re _not_ a sentimental charity, Natasha.” Steve states at once, nearly admonishing her for thinking that way. “I’m not doing this because of pity. I’m doing this because I _want_ to.”

“What if _I_ don’t want you to?” Natasha retorts loudly, to which Steve reacts by giving her a look of complete bewilderment. “Why are you pushing me away, Nat?” He asks, his words coming off as a whisper.

“Because you didn’t sign up to care for someone broken like me.” Natasha snaps, a lone tear trickles down her cheek. It is almost ironic what 24 hours could do to a person - just last night, Natasha had been ready to let Steve into her heart, to give herself another chance at happiness. Now, there is nothing but fear and dejection in her heart. “The longer you stick around, the longer you would realise how undesirable I could be. Trust me, Steve. You don’t want that. You don’t want to be with someone emotionally damaged like me.”

Steve could feel the break in his heart hearing those words from her, but it is not one that he feels for himself. To see Natasha like this, a contrast to how she had acted with him before this is jarring, but Steve levels himself quickly. He may not know what had happened in Natasha’s past that _broke_ her like this, but Steve knows that her words could never push him away like how she wanted them to. He places both of his hands on her upper arms, shaking her slightly so that she would look at him.

When Natasha does, Steve starts again, his tone gentle and genuine. “Please do not put words into my mouth, Natasha.”

Her eyes widen just a little just as he continues. “I don’t care if you’re broken, or if you’re emotionally damaged. All I care about is you. All I care about is being _with_ you.”

Natasha bit her lower lip. It hurts her to say this, but she wills herself to anyway. “I’m not worth your time, Steve.” She tells him gently, as though trying to knock some sense into him. “You deserve someone that isn’t _damaged goods_.”

“Natasha,” Steve is unfazed by her words as he continues to hold his gaze on her. Instead, he asks her a question; “have you ever heard of the term _daystar_?”

She furrows her eyebrows a little, but keeps mum. Steve takes that as a sign to continue. “It means morning star. A planet, usually Venus, that you see just before sunrise.” 

“What’s the relevance -” Natasha begins, but stops mid-sentence when Steve shakes his head once and resumes his sentence. “It is the first instance of dawn, the first sign of light after hours of darkness - it is meant to symbolise _hope._ ”

Steve pauses, and in that flicker of a moment, he thinks of all the time they’ve shared together; their first meeting that led to many dinners, many visits to the bookstore; the experience of sharing the joy of this advent season together; shopping for a real Christmas tree, adorning her home with decorations, ice skating in Rockefeller Center. The privilege of getting to know her better as he allowed her into his heart quietly without realising - the moment during his art exhibition that reminded him that it is crazy he feels so strongly for someone he’d just met not that long ago, but being with Natasha had really brought out the best in him, she compensates for the loneliness he had felt for a really long time - even though his heart had been bruised, he was willing to mend it for her, _with_ her. The only problem was that Steve had hated himself for feeling this way towards the one woman he couldn’t have - that was then. 

Now? Steve inhales deeply, heart drumming steadily against his rib-cage, _that was no longer an issue._

So he takes a step closer towards her, and exhales. “Nat, _you_ are my daystar.” He searches her expression and finds a myriad of emotions breaking across her rosy cheeks. “You keep referring yourself as someone who isn’t whole without realising that in my eyes, that _doesn’t_ matter to me. Because when I look at you, I see this kind, intelligent woman capable of setting off butterflies in my stomach. Someone who could make me laugh, someone who I can share laughters with. When I look at you, I see someone strong and beautiful, someone I want to share all my good and bad news with. I don’t need you to be whole or perfect, Natasha. I just need you to be _you_.”

Natasha hears the sound of her heart pounding, loud and clear. His words leave her just a little bit breathless, a little bit in awe. She wants to believe them, she really does, but despite that, Natasha finds herself shaking her head in slight hesitation. “You can’t possibly mean that, Steve. Why would you say all of those things?”

In a flash, Steve hears his inner voice reciting three words that have laid dormant within him for quite some time. Words that echo a feeling he had recognised early on after spending time with Natasha, but kept locked in the deepest recesses of his heart, simply because he didn’t think he was ready to say those words again. But now, with Natasha slowly slipping away from his fingertips, Steve is hit with a realisation that he doesn’t want to lose her. He doesn’t _ever_ want to lose her. When that thought sinks in, it becomes apparent to Steve that he _wants_ her to _know_ just how important she is in his life.

So he whispers - “Because I _love_ you, Natasha.”

That declaration stuns Natasha as she blinks, letting his words sink in. Steve looks on with conviction, with clarity in his eyes as he gently tightens his grip on her arms. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Natasha Romanoff. And...” He pauses. “...I’m going to kiss you.”

“Steve,” Natasha says slowly, but doesn’t back away. She holds his gaze, and says nothing else. When she uttered his name, Natasha had every intention to resist him - she’d placed a hand against his chest, wanting to push him away. But as seconds pass in sinking acceptance, Natasha realises that she couldn’t bring herself to do it - it is futile of her to even think of anything else when she is overwhelmed by a longing to taste him. 

Steve steps into her proximity and cups her face in his hands. In reflex, Natasha tilts her head upwards just as Steve leans down, closing the distance between them with a firm press of his lips against hers. Her eyes flutter shut; the feel of his lips on hers, how soft and tender, is enough to ignite the fire within her soul, one she thought was lost forever. There is no way she could push him away, not when Natasha knows, deep down, that she likes him - no, there’s a possibility that she might even be _in love_ with him - too. 

At that admittance quietly echoing within her heart, Natasha slowly parts her lips for him, pressing herself closer. Soon, she is winding her arms around his neck, and Steve presses his hand against the small of her back. Everything else blurs away as Natasha thinks of only Steve, clinging onto him, as though he is the only solid thing in this otherwise swaying world. It is almost electrifying, enough to send tremors down Natasha’s spine, heart racing with want and desire. When they pull apart eventually, neither of them moved, trying to even out their breathing. Their foreheads lightly touching, Steve watches how Natasha’s eyes are still closed, her cheeks flushed.

After a long, quiet moment, Natasha opens her eyes to meet his warm gaze. “I think I owe you an explanation, Steve.” She says softly, her voice measured and small. Natasha caresses his cheek just as Steve raises his eyebrow in anticipation. She pauses, almost drowning in the blue of his eyes. 

Albeit a little nervous, Natasha knows that she is finally ready to open up her heart to Steve. She gives him a small smile. “Can we go back to my place first?”

He returns her smile easily, taking her hand in his. Steve interlaces their fingers together, not breaking their eye contact. Then, he nods.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! There you go, the misunderstanding is finally cleared between our two main characters and we finally got to see them kiss!!!!!! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, thank you for reading! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas!


	7. my heart's been borrowed, yours has been blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of Natasha's past and clearing the misunderstanding with everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **tw:** mentions of domestic violence.
> 
> This chapter is also **Rated M** for...sort of...kinda... _almost_...smut. You'll understand soon
> 
> p/s: this chapter's title is taken from Taylor Swift's Lover.

An hour and a brewed cup of tea later, Natasha settles herself beside Steve on the couch as she tucks her legs underneath her. She waits until Steve places the cup away to speak again. “How's the tea?” Natasha asks, only because she wants to start their conversation light before delving into the reason why she had invited him into her apartment.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind the small talk - he offers her a warm smile. “It’s fine, _but_ I still prefer milkshakes.”

That little inside joke makes her chuckle. Natasha shakes her head. “Your obsession with milkshakes is really something else.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, smile still on his lips. “I have every reason to be, since you make such out-of-the-world ones.”

“Alright, alright.” Natasha waves one hand in the air, relenting to his words. “I’ll make you some later.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs. “Next time is fine too, Nat."

She pauses then, features softening. Steve realises the change in her expression, however subtle it was - he arches an eyebrow and asks. “What’s wrong?”

Natasha merely smiles, shaking her head as if to tell him that nothing is wrong. “You’ve been calling me _Nat_ a few times.” She explains gently. “The only other person who calls me that is Maria. It’s...somewhat endearing coming from you.”

“Does that mean I can keep calling you that?” Steve asks in confirmation as he watches Natasha nodding once. She confesses softly, a hint of red on her cheeks. “I like that you’re calling me that, Steve.”

He broadens his smile by reflex, heart skipping a beat. Steve keeps mum after that, noticing the look of slight trepidation flashing across Natasha’s expression. She starts to fiddle with her hands anxiously, biting her lower lip as her gaze falters. In an attempt to calm her nerves, Steve reaches out to place his hand gently on her thigh. “Hey,” He starts slowly, drawing out the syllable so that it pulls her to look at him. There’s this feeling building within him, of knowing that Natasha is probably in this state of anxiety because she wants to let him know about her past. While he is touched that she trusts him that much to want to reveal bits of her life to him, Steve doesn’t allow his curiosity to take precedence over her own comfort. So he continues firmly; “If you’re not ready to tell, you don’t have to. I won’t be going anywhere.”

That small promise is enough to stir something within Natasha - a sense of security and hope that she feels radiating from the man beside her. She shakes her head and levels her breathing to calm her pounding heart. “No, Steve. I _want_ you to know.”

Hearing that insistence in her voice, Steve merely nods - a green light for her to continue as he is all ears for her. Natasha exhales steadily. “My past...is quite literally something you only see in movies; misfortunes piled up like they were part of me.”

Natasha continues after a short pause, deciding to jump straight to her point. “I was in a loveless relationship for a long time - six years.” She puts a brave front, a small smile that doesn’t reach even a fraction of her eyes. Steve holds his breath, maintaining the calm front he is giving her - a gesture she deeply appreciates. “I’ve grown up never having a real family, my adoptive father was killed in a car accident when I was 16. I’ve been alone ever since. So when _he_ showed up in my life shortly after, and promised me a happily ever after...I took it. I was young and awfully naive, caught up in his sweet but empty promises. And I...” She stammers in hesitation, her gaze wavering. “I got married to him when I was 18.”

That revelation ought to have stunned Steve, but somehow, he is calm - his instinct tells him that her husband (ex?) was no longer in the picture. If Natasha would look at him, she would realise that his expression does not show a sliver of negativity to what she had just told him, it did not in any way, change how he feels for the redhead. Wanting to show her that, Steve edges closer to her, and pulls her into his chest gently.

Natasha takes in the warmth of his body and the faint scent of pine and vanilla - she is slowly learning to associate those with the feeling of comfort and security, so Natasha wraps her arms around his torso as she continues her story.

“I held on to that last strand of hope, thinking that that was what love meant - you give some, you take some.” She pauses. “Except I wasn’t giving some, I was giving _all_. And I wasn’t taking some, I was taking _none.”_

Steve feels a mixture of feelings rising within him - sadness, ache, _anger_. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever treating Natasha like that, not when he has every intention of wanting to give her the entire world - she deserves it, she deserves it very much.

Natasha heaves a sigh. _“_ He never saw me as an equal. I was reduced to being a mere token to him, a _trophy_ he could parade to his friends, Natasha Romanoff, the rising star from the New York City Ballet.”

It truly pains Steve to hear those words from her, but he continues to keep mum. Instead he tightens his arms around her, his gesture protective, of urgency to let her know that he is _here_ for her. As she nuzzles closer into his neck, Natasha continues. “When we go out on dates, he would _always_ walk in front of me. Never once had he turned around to check if I was alright, or try to even match my pace. He didn’t wait. Never once had he waited for me.” She shudders, distant but fresh memories assaulting her mind. “He could be right there in the same room as me, but every time I reached for him, he _never_ reached back.”

Even if she knows that Steve would never judge her for what she is about to say, Natasha doesn’t think she has it in her to look at him, so she shifts her eyes to watch Liho sleeping on the floor instead. “Harsh words were said, there were _episodes_ here and there,” Steve grimaces slightly, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach. He could almost feel his blood boiling, gushing right into his ears in controlled anger as he shakes his head, exhaling, “Natasha…”

“but even then, I _couldn’t_ leave him.” Natasha admits softly. “I couldn’t bring myself to leave, even though I _knew_ I had to - to me, he was the only person I had left here. I had already met Maria by then, but...I knew him longer and I loved him. I was willing to compromise for him, so caught up with this idea of love that I wasn’t even...I wasn’t even living for myself anymore.”

Steve presses a kiss into the crown of her head, a gesture of comfort.

“When I finally snapped out of it, it was because Maria had pleaded for me to leave him. She found out what was happening to me and she couldn’t understand why I was still with him. I didn’t listen to her initially. The final straw was when...” Natasha sniffles at the memory crashing into her head harshly, painfully. “...remember when I told you I tore my ligaments and had a knee surgery?”

An unbearable, awful feeling washes over Steve at that very second, a nauseating gut feeling building within him. Natasha finally says - “We were fighting. He shoved me...and I slipped down the stairs.”

Hearing that from Natasha is gut-wrenching, as though someone is dragging a knife across Steve’s heart. He shakes his head a few times, pulling her even closer into him, trying to comfort her in any way possible. Natasha exhales shakily, curling by reflex, making herself smaller. “I got a restraining order against him, then filed for divorce after that, and Maria was with me every step of the way. He never came back. I don’t think he’s even in the States anymore.”

Steve exhales - slight relief over the fact that the bastard had gone far, far away from Natasha. He is beyond livid, his jaw clenched in anger at the thought of Natasha going through such a painful experience. “Nat,” He mumbles, “to go through all of that…”

She shakes her head, glancing up to search his eyes for his current feelings. “Don’t,” Natasha almost pleads. “I don’t need your pity, or sympathy, Steve.”

But she sees a split second after that Steve isn’t giving her a look of pity, or sympathy. Yes, there’s a sort of ache on his face that she could tell - but he _isn’t_ looking at her the way she’d seen some people did when they found out about her past. Steve merely says, “I was going to say that it takes great courage to walk out from a relationship like that.” He cups her face gently. “You are _strong_ , Natasha.”

She appreciates his words, she really does. Natasha manages a small smile. “Hardly. It changes you.” She confesses in a whisper, shutting her eyes. “No matter the years that have gone by, you just...you become different. More wary, less trusting. When you decide that loneliness is much better than pain. When love becomes something you no longer believe in, because it has broken you in ways you cannot imagine.”

Natasha heaves a huge sigh, and Steve resorts to rubbing her back soothingly and whispering repeatedly that _it’s okay, it’s okay._

“But...I believe that even though my heart is broken, it isn’t entirely gone.” She breathes out afterwards, opening her eyes to meet the assuring, protective warmth of his blue irises.“Because I find myself caring for _you_ , Steve. This... _longing_ that I have for you. There’s a high chance that if anyone could change how I feel about love today, it’s _you_. Chances are high that I could see myself loving _you_.” Natasha places her hand over her chest, feeling the fast drumming of her heart - a feeling invoked only when she is around Steve. “If I don’t already do.”

That admittance leaves Steve almost breathless as Natasha continues in slight hesitation; “But before I go any further with that, I need...I need to know...”

Even though Natasha allows her sentence to trail off, Steve knows what she wanted to say. He understands it from her quiet eyes that spoke volumes of what is running through her mind. In that moment, he laces their hands together, then brings her knuckle to his lips. 

“I’ll never do that to you, Natasha.” Steve promises. “I would _never_ hurt you like that.”

At his assurance, Natasha smiles - it is all she wants to hear. She leans in to press her lips against his gently, one hand against his cheek. To Steve, her action couldn’t be any clearer - in opening up to him, Natasha is entrusting her heart to him, in trust that he would protect it, that he would keep it safe. He kisses her back tenderly, hoping his reply would reach her - a promise that he would do just that, a sign that he would mend her heart until it is whole again, to relieve her from painful memories and replace them with only the ones that could bring her utter joy and happiness. 

“Thank you, Steve.” is all that Natasha says after that. _“Thank you.”_

* * *

With Steve's support and assurance that they would be completely understanding, Natasha finds herself in the Barnes residence again, her presence warmly welcomed as usual with no one bringing up her abrupt leave from the day before. 

Once everyone is seated and settled in the living room, Natasha wills herself to look at Winnifred. Her revised plan was to ease slowly into that topic, but the second she lays her eyes on the older woman, Natasha blurts out the words she had rehearsed a thousand times in her head.

_“I’m not in a relationship with James.”_

The Barnes are silent, but Natasha could see the looks of confusion crowding their faces as they exchange glances from one to another. She swallows the lump in her throat, feels the slight squeeze of Steve’s hand on her shoulder - a sign of encouragement for her to go on. “I was informed by Steve that due to a misunderstanding, you were under the impression that I’m dating James…” Her voice becomes small, “...I’m not. We’re just...friends.”

Natasha casts a careful glance into Grandma Barnes’ way, wanting to gauge her reaction in hopes that the elderly woman is not having too much of a hard time trying to digest everything; the last she wants is for her to get a heart attack in the midst of this mess.

Steve steps in to assist her just then. He clears his throat and raises one hand slowly. “It’s my fault, really.” 

Rebecca quirks an eyebrow at Steve as he elaborates. “The nurse misunderstood that Nat is Bucky’s girlfriend because of an inside joke -”

“A totally harmless inside joke,” Natasha chimes in then shuts her mouth quickly.

“- yes, no harm done,” Steve agrees, exchanging another look with the redhead while the rest looks on at them. “And well, I assumed things and then told all of you something that wasn’t true. All the while with Nat not knowing that we all thought she was with Bucky.”

“ _Nat_?” Rebecca echoes, her lips curled upwards slightly. Thinking that she was calling her, Natasha turns her head towards James’ sister, only to realise that she still has her eyes on Steve. Natasha notices the look of mild amusement on her face, her lingering gaze finally lands on the redhead. Rebecca’s smile seems to grow, to Natasha’s confusion. 

“I’m really sorry.” Natasha apologises, directing her attention back at Winnifred and Grandma Barnes. “I didn’t mean for this misunderstanding to happen and definitely didn’t expect it would escalate -”

“Oh, honey.” Grandma Barnes interjects gently, stopping Natasha mid-sentence. “If anyone should apologise, it is us for assuming things.”

“Yes.” Winnifred agrees quickly, albeit the hint of slight disappointment in her eyes, but still in a cheery disposition when she continues, “We were just so caught up with everything that happened, that when we found out you were...well, we _thought_ you were Bucky’s girlfriend, we really wanted to make you feel like you were part of the family. We should have confirmed with you beforehand, sorry Natasha dear.”

Natasha is a little speechless to hear that - an apology from Winnifred was the last thing she had expected to hear. “No, please don’t apologise. It’s not your fault, really.”

“It’s not _anyone’s_ fault.” Steve says kindly, already meeting Natasha’s gaze. “It’s really all just an innocent misunderstanding.”

The Barnes choruses a _yup, Steve’s right,_ much to Natasha’s relief. They are still smiling, darting careful looks that Natasha couldn’t quite catch towards Steve and herself.

“For the record though,” She starts again after a few seconds of silence. “You guys succeeded in doing that. Made me feel like I was part of the family, I mean. I don’t have a family here and...every visit to your home made me feel like I belonged. It made me feel warm and so welcomed and...happy. And for that, I am truly grateful.”

“Natasha,” Winnifred breaks into a huge grin. “Regardless of whether or not you’re with Bucky, you will _always_ be welcomed here.”

“Oh _definitely_ , that goes without saying.” Grandma Barnes nods furiously, an action that causes Natasha’s throat to constrict as she feels tears welling up her eyelids. “I’ve already thought of you as my granddaughter, anyway.”

She struggles to get the words out. “You would...do that for a stranger?”

“You’re _not_ a stranger, dear child.” Winnifred shrugs away Natasha’s worry with no more than a simple laugh. “You’re practically already family to us.”

“But…” Natasha wishes to protest, because it still feels a little bit jarring for her that they’d accepted her apology so easily, without much care, _and_ are still so welcoming of her in this household?

“It’s always nice to have another sister around, you know.” Rebecca puts in gently, rendering Natasha with no words to counter her statement. Her heart is pounding; it is not until Steve clasps one hand over hers to calm her that Natasha finds an eventual smile of gratitude spreading across her face, all of her worries slowly fading away. “Besides, _something_ tells me that you _will_ be part of the family _soon._ ” 

At that sentence, Natasha arches an eyebrow, not quite understanding what Rebecca means. She averts her gaze from her to the two older women, who had dissolved into chuckles that filled the air. Even the children had stopped playing with their toys, their gazes transfixed on the redhead, huge grins on their faces. Natasha has no idea why she’s stammering; “I...I don’t understand.”

Rebecca laughs, then gingerly points at Natasha’s hand which is tightly intertwined with Steve’s. Almost at once, her cheeks begin to colour, finally realising what James’ sister was getting at. “When did _that_ happen?” Rebecca smirks, just as Winnifred reaches to the side to give her mother a huge, celebratory bear hug.

Natasha goes pink instantly as Steve clears his throat. “What?” He asks innocently, to which even the children start to giggle, not buying his act of pretence. 

“Please,” Rebecca rolls her eyes, still smiling. “It’s _obvious_ you two like each other.”

Steve rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly, looking at Natasha beside him. She finds his gaze easily as well, wisps of red on her cheeks. “That I do not deny. But we...uh...it was only _after_ the misunderstanding cleared up that I...”

Rebecca waves her hand in the air uncaringly. “No need to explain yourself, Steve. We know how you are, don’t we, mom?” She nudges Winnifred who nods and then lets out the loudest laughter Natasha has ever heard from her, clapping her hands together in glee. “This is wonderful! _Absolutely_ wonderful!”

“So does that mean you’ll _definitely_ be my granddaughter?” Grandma Barnes asks quickly, her eyes hopeful and bright.

Natasha flushes at that implication - Steve hasn’t even officially _asked_ her to be his girlfriend yet, even if he’d already professed his love for her. Still, she nods in affirmation, knowing that there is only one answer to Grandma Barnes’ question - it was silly of her to think that she would lose them if she told them the truth. “Without a doubt.”

Laughter and cheers erupted the room just as George makes a mad dash towards Natasha, throwing himself onto her lap. She laughs, hugging him naturally while ruffling his hair. “Are you going to be my Auntie Nat for _real_?” He squeals, doe-like eyes staring at her; Natasha swears her heart nearly melts.

“Slow down there, kiddo.” Steve answers on her behalf with a chuckle, bobbing the tip of George’s nose. Natasha meets his eyes again, and she smiles on pure reflex, butterflies scurrying into her stomach at his thoughtfulness. Steve doesn’t say anything, merely holding onto her gaze, both seemingly lost in their own world until —

Someone clears their throat loudly, and their attention snaps away to Grandma Barnes, a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. “Are you two lovebirds going to stare into each other’s eyes the entire day, or are you two going to kiss?”

They turn a beetroot red immediately. “Uh…” Steve coughs, just as Emily, Julie and Sandra bolt towards them, tugging their hands in a motion for them to stand as George scrambles for his mother. 

“If you need an excuse to kiss Auntie Nat…” Julie cheerfully starts while pulling Natasha towards one specific direction. The adults merely laugh, watching the children’s antics. 

“All you need is to stand underneath…” Emily continues from her cousin’s sentence, pulling Steve along with more strength than expected from a young girl.

“The mistletoe!” Sandra finishes the sentence with a loud squeal, and gives one final push so that Steve is now somewhat squished against Natasha underneath the archway. They naturally face each other, still laughing until Natasha speaks. 

“Everyone’s watching in anticipation,” She whispers, taking a step closer, drawing himself towards her with her eyes. “we shouldn’t keep them waiting, Rogers.”

Steve gives her a lopsided grin, wrapping his arms around her lower waist. They could hear Grandma Barnes’ squeal of excitement from behind them as he pulls her flush against him. “I guess so,” He agrees easily, leaning down. “So we shouldn’t disappoint them, Romanoff.”

Natasha tilts her head and places her hands against the side of his neck. “Didn’t cross my mind to.” She replies, and closes the distance between them. When their lips meet, Steve feels his heart reacting instantly, sparks igniting within his stomach - it isn’t salacious, the kiss, but one that is gentle, filled with genuine affection and infinite warmth of adoration and love. They could hear elated cheers from the rest of the family, but slowly, the sounds just fade into background noises - as ridiculous as this sounds, he could probably spend the rest of his life just kissing _her_.

When Natasha pulls away eventually, she is already smiling, cheeks glowing. As Steve meets Natasha’s green irises, full of wonder and tenderness, he thinks he may have fallen a little bit more in love with her.

* * *

  
  


Two hours later, as they bundle up to leave the Barnes’ residence, Natasha leans in to whisper into his ear. “Do you feel like milkshakes tonight? I could make you some later at home.” The tone of her voice alone is sufficient to send a chill running down his spine. She adds with a smirk. “ _If_ you want to come over, that is.”

Steve laughs, capturing her lips again a few seconds after - he really couldn’t help it. The implication of her suggestion is not lost, and Steve replies after kissing her again. “Yeah, that sounds...sounds like a plan.”

Natasha grins, taking a step back. “Then we better get going.” She laces their fingers together, pausing just for a few seconds to look at Steve again. Her cheeks are probably flushed red, but she wills herself not to break eye contact with him. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

There’s a long pause that stretches between them then. She opens and closes her mouth once - the words are right _there_ at the tip of her tongue, but Natasha couldn’t say them just yet. Steve merely smiles, stepping closer into her. “Don’t worry about it, Nat.”

She looks back at him sheepishly, as if to apologise, but Steve is having none of that. He squeezes her hand in assurance, giving her a quick, chaste kiss on her forehead. “I _know_.” He simply tells her.

They head back together to Natasha’s place after that.

* * *

Natasha _did_ end up making Steve a milkshake, to which he accepts with gratitude and a loud laugh that fills the serene ambience of her living room. There’s a soap opera playing on the television that neither of them seem to be paying that much attention to, the volume set to the lowest possible. With Natasha comfortably nestled in the crook of his arm, they make random, small talks with each other before the conversation shifts to something else entirely.

“So you really didn’t date anyone after Kate?” Natasha asks, her eyes gleaming with slight playfulness after Steve shakes his head. “Oh, I _see_.”

He raises an eyebrow warily. “What’s with _that_ tone?”

“I was just wondering,” Natasha shrugs as nonchalantly as she could, before adding. “if yesterday’s kiss had been your first since Kate.”

Steve groans the second he hears that. “That bad, huh?”

“I _didn’t_ say that,” Natasha arches an eyebrow and gives him a pointed look. “All I’m saying is that everyone needs _practice_.”

Somehow, Steve ends up smirking at that sentence as he pulls Natasha onto his lap in one swift motion - she lets out a yelp of surprise, dissolving into chuckles afterwards. “Practice, huh? I wonder who would do me the honours.”

She flushes at the underlying meaning of his sentence, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. Placing one hand on his chest and the other to the nape of his neck, Natasha gives him another shrug. “Have you seen yourself in the mirror? I can _assure_ you that all you need to do is go to a bar and you’ll find someone willing to be your practice dummy.”

“Now, why would I need to go to a bar,” He pauses just for dramatic effect, watches the corner of Natasha’s lip curling upwards. “When I already have someone right in _front_ of me?”

“Well,” Their eyes meet, and the way Steve is staring at her so intensely sends Natasha’s heart pounding. She leans into his ear, whispering, her voice turning out huskier than intended. “Maybe because she’s still _waiting_ for you to kiss her.”

As if that had been a cue, Steve leans forward to slant his lips over hers, to which Natasha parts her lips almost at once, returning his kiss with equal passion and intensity. Quite unlike the gentle kiss under the mistletoe earlier, this becomes heated easily as Steve presses deeper, hands roaming all over her body. In one swift motion, Natasha shifts in her position without breaking their kiss, so that she is straddling his hips. Steve settles his hands on her waist and grunts when Natasha starts to rock her hips slowly against him, sending heat spiralling straight into his jeans as she moves, pressing herself closer into his growing arousal. When she pulls back, Steve could see the flush in her cheeks and the smirk on her lips - _oh, she definitely knows what she is doing to him_. 

“ _Natasha_ ,” A short moan escapes him when she leans forward to trail kisses on his jaw and down the column of his throat. Steve feels her hands slipping underneath his sweater, feels her delicate fingers grazing his abs - he shivers at her touch, reciprocating her action by running his hands all over her back, and already having half a mind to just peel her sweater over her head — when the sudden shrill _ring_ of his phone causes him to pause midway. Steve decides belatedly that he has every intention to ignore whoever it is that is calling, and proceeds to press their lips firmly together again, kissing her wantonly. Natasha cards her fingers through his short tresses, tugging them rather forcefully which leads to Steve groaning into her mouth. 

They would _really_ have proceeded forward in their make-out session if not because they are distracted by the persistent ringing emitting from Steve’s phone. Eventually, Natasha pulls back with a sigh, looking over her shoulder to peer at his phone vibrating on her coffee table. She frowns a little, then leans back to retrieve the device. “It’s Rebecca.” She announces, handing the phone to Steve quickly. He answers it, though mildly - just _mildly_ \- annoyed at having being interrupted.

"Steve?" His annoyance dissipates in the air in a split second as Steve senses the urgency in Rebecca’s tone, a mixture of emotions laced in it. Natasha smooths down her sweater and shifts back to her original position on the couch, darting Steve a look of curiosity. She could hear Rebecca's somewhat frantic voice on the line, but couldn't make out the words as she’s talking in such a hurried motion. 

Steve lets out a gasp, turning to look at Natasha at once, eyes wide. His face breaks into an excited grin and the second their eyes meet, she just _knows_.

_"Bucky's awake!"_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear when I first had the idea to write this Christmas fic, it did not have all these backstories that came along as I started writing it lol. Nat's past is a bit dark compared to the tone of this fic, but I felt it was necessary to explain why she seemed rather closed up towards love and just this advent season aka the season of perpetual hope (home alone reference anybody?) in general. The plot for Nat's past is also nothing new I believe as many fics have used this premise (poor Nat) before.
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll be able to update the last chapter, but hopefully not too long after. Comments are very much appreciated, you have no idea how much it fuels me to write hehe. Oh also...I sense some disappointment in the almost smut in this chapter, but well...look out for the next chapter I guess? ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter!


	8. all i want for christmas is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of Bucky, and baking Christmas cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I've been busy with work and Chinese New Year preparation. I intended for this to be the last chapter but since it's been some time and I know I wouldn't be able to finish the rest of the chapter soon, I've decided to split it and put the rest of what was supposed to be in this chapter (coughsSmutcoughs & the ending scene) as the Epilogue! Enjoy this chapter and lemme know what you think. ^^

When Steve and Natasha reach the hospital, the Barnes are already crowding Bucky’s ward, a frenzy of conversations in the air. Steve wastes no second to rush in, squeezing into the space between Winnifred and Grandma Barnes as he exchanges a light fist bump with his best friend. Natasha remains standing behind the rest of the family, contented with just watching them interact with James. 

Bucky looks at Steve with a tired grin, already chuckling at the expression he is displaying. “Yo, relax. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“You really scared us, you know.” Rebecca admonishes from the end of his bed, and everyone choruses with mumbles of agreement - the loudest being Grandma Barnes. “Imagine the shock I got when I received a call from Natasha saying you were in the ICU.”

At the mention of her name, Natasha stands straighter in reflex - it is then that Steve looks behind his shoulder, catches her uncertain gaze, and moves automatically to her side. Steve takes her hand in his as he tugs her forward, so that Bucky could see her.

“Natasha, hey.” Bucky sounds a little bit confused, but he still gives her a polite smile. It takes him two more seconds to remember that he had been with her the night he got into that accident. “ _Right_ , we were supposed to go for coffee together!”

“Hi James.” Natasha greets in return, relieved to see that he is alright. “I’m really sorry -”

“Did you get your handbag back?” Bucky asks as the memory clicks into his mind, and Natasha softens her features, that tiny feeling of guilt returning into her heart. She shakes her head slowly. “No, but it’s okay. I’m really glad you’re alright now, James.”

He flashes her a weak grin, then glances at Steve briefly. “I’d say it was a well deserved, good, long sleep.” Bucky jokes, and sees Steve breaking into a grin. “So what did I miss?”

Winnifred launches into a few family stories, with Grandma Barnes and Rebecca sharing their own gossip as well. Steve steals glances at Natasha a few times, a subconscious smile growing on his face - he wants to tell his best friend all that has happened, knowing that he would probably either go into a shock or be really happy for him; he’s convinced it would be the latter. 

“Our stories are boring, though.” Rebecca simply whirls her hand in the air, and while smirking, points at the two quiet individuals. “ _Theirs_ on the other hand…” Her sentence trails away as everyone gazes at Steve and Natasha. The redhead blushes immediately, suddenly put in the spotlight.

Bucky tilts his head to one side, initially confused at what his sister had implied. “I see you’ve met.” He starts with a slow smile crossing his expression. “You know, funny story. On the night of the accident, I was planning on telling Natasha about you.”

At that, Natasha immediately arches an eyebrow while Steve looks on incredulously. “What do you mean?” He asks, and Bucky lets out a chuckle.

“Let’s just say,” He flashes a grin. “Your best friend was trying to play cupid because he has had enough of you moping around.”

Steve turns pink at that, while Natasha’s eyes widen. “What?” She blurts out in disbelief.

Bucky looks at Natasha sheepishly. “Yeah, remember you assumed that I was interested in you which was why I asked you out for coffee?”

The red on her cheeks seems to glow even more now as Natasha merely nods. “I was actually going to tell you about Steve.” Bucky glances at Steve again with a pointed look. “Because I was doing my _duty_ as his best friend, and I wanted him to go out and meet people. Go on dates, you know? Go back out in the market.”

The entire revelation leaves everyone speechless - even the rest of the Barnes are amused. “Oh boy,” Rebecca hides her laugh with a loud cough, alluding to how ironic everything has turned out to be. Bucky seems to catch on to her reaction and everyone else’s, because it is his turn in quirking an eyebrow. “Wait, why are you guys giving me that look? Did something happen?” He frowns before shifting his attention back towards the quiet couple. After a few seconds of quiet observation, of realising that Steve and Natasha are standing so close to each other that there’s barely any gap between their arms, Bucky lets out a loud, almost comedic gasp. “Wait... _wait, hold on -_ ” He darts a look back and forth between the two of them. “- are you telling me that you two…?”

The second Bucky asks that question, he has already gotten his answer through the way Natasha averts her gaze elsewhere while Steve merely smiles - both as red as tomatoes. Flabbergasted, Bucky continues to look on with widening eyes glinting with amusement “But _how_?”

Seeing as to how neither of them seem to be able to find the words in their mouths, Rebecca answers on their behalf, “They got really close to each other while you were sleeping.” She chuckles, then Winnifred cuts in hastily. “You should tell James about the misunderstanding! That was how they got close anyway!”

Natasha covers one hand over her face in slight embarrassment at that, though still smiling. Bucky looks a tad bit too excited as he sits straighter in his bed. “What misunderstanding?”

“Uhm,” Steve scratches his head, his expression sheepish. “I thought Natasha was your girlfriend.”

Bucky blinks, mouth forming an ‘o’ before the words fully sink in - when they do, Steve nearly jumps when Bucky bursts into fits of laughter. “ _Oh my god - what?”_

“Steve was taking care of Natasha with the thought that he should treat your girlfriend right,” Grandma Barnes pipes up from her chair with a wide grin, darting her gaze at them. She adds in a dreamy tone, “and then they _fell in love_ with each other.”

Steve looks flustered as he quickly shakes his hands in the air. “Of course I didn’t do anything when -”

But Bucky just falls into another laughter as he clutches his stomach in awe, ignoring Steve’s attempt to explain himself. More than anything, Bucky is extremely amused over the piece of information that was just told to him. But above all, he is absolutely _elated_ for his best friend. “So I was _right_ ! Oh gosh, my instinct was _actually_ right.” He exclaims loudly, eyes quite literally gleaming with pride. “I had a feeling that you would like Natasha, which was why I kept returning to the bookstore.” Bucky glances at the quiet redhead, admitting quietly. “I was trying to find an opportunity to ask you out so that I could...well...sort of set you up on a blind date with Steve.”

Natasha’s mouth twitches ever slightly, fighting the urge to laugh. If it isn’t because she is hearing all of this personally from Bucky, Natasha would have imagined that this was a made up story, a figment of a writer’s imagination because _how on earth?_

“And now you guys are telling me that I didn’t even need to do that?” Bucky nearly howls in hilarity. “That _all_ that was required was just me getting into an accident and falling into a coma? _Dudeeee,_ if I knew that was all it took I would have -”

“ _Bucky_!” 

“ _James_!”

Both Steve and Natasha muttered his name at the same time, with the former shaking his head in mild disapproval. Bucky relents by putting both his hands in the air, face still split into the widest but rather exhausted grin. “I deserve the Best Friend of the Century award.” He slumps back into his pillow, finally realising just how tired he actually still is. “You need to tell me _everything_ , Steve.”

“I will.” Steve nods. “When you’re better.”

Bucky merely hums, eyes drooping as he yawns - the effects of whatever drugs the nurse had administered earlier are finally setting in. Realising that Bucky is about to fall asleep any time, Winnifred leans in to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “We’ll come by again tomorrow.” She tells him, and Bucky manages a nod. Rebecca and Grandma Barnes pet his arm before taking their leave with Winnifred, leaving Steve and Natasha alone in the ward.

Bucky grins again, directing his attention to his best friend. “I’m _really_ happy for you, Steve.” He exhales in the end softly, just loud enough for them to catch his words. Steve returns his grin, then meets Natasha’s gaze. No other words are needed as he slips his hand into hers.

“Good night, James.” Natasha whispers, to which Bucky nods, closing his eyes. Two seconds after, they start for the door quietly, having moved a few steps forward when Bucky calls out at the last second. “Natasha?”

She turns around immediately, finding his half lidded eyes as Bucky struggles to remain awake. “Yes, James?”

Bucky gives her the warmest smile he could muster from the tiny energy he has left within him. _“Welcome to the family.”_

  
  


* * *

A few days before Christmas, with Bucky discharged and lounging about in the Barnes residence, Natasha finds herself dropping by with Steve naturally in the tow - today is the perfect day to tick off another item from her Christmas Bucket List; baking Christmas cookies, one that had been promised by Steve some time ago.

Almost the entire family, sans the children and Grandma Barnes, are crowded in the kitchen mixing and whisking the ingredients by batches, genuine and easy laughter filling the air as Bucky fulfils his role of embarrassing Steve in front of his girlfriend. As Steve flushes at the stories of his childhood, Natasha takes them all in with a wide grin on her face - Bucky tells her about all his heroic actions as a boy taking on bullies thrice his size, of the times when he didn’t know how to talk to girls, embarrassing moments that leave Natasha fascinated and entertained by the end of Bucky’s storytelling.

“Wonderful,” Steve flicks flour into Bucky’s direction when he finally stops sharing Steve's past with Natasha. “You’re such a _wonderful_ best friend.”

Bucky revenges by flicking more flour back at Steve, who just chuckles as he quickly ducks behind Natasha. She laughs. “I am just doing Natasha a favour you know, so she knows what she is getting herself into.”

“Well, I think,” Natasha announces just then, turning her head to the side so that she could meet Steve's eyes. “it’s incredibly brave of you to stand up against bullies who are bigger than you.” Steve practically beams back at her, unable to resist leaning down to kiss her. “You’re the best.”

Steve gives Natasha another peck on the lips - Rebecca lets out a loud _aww_ just as Bucky grimaces teasingly. “ _Yuck_ , get a room.”

Steve responses by taking a fist of flour and then throwing it at Bucky. The latter scrambles out from his seat before the flour could hit his shoulder, roaring with a loud laughter merrily. Winnifred _tsks_ from the side at the mess her sons are creating, but says nothing as she continues to roll the dough quietly with a huge smile plastered on her face. 

“I have an innocent question to ask, though.” Rebecca directs her question towards her brother, and when Bucky gives her his attention, she asks. “How did you know Natasha would be a good fit for Steve?”

Hearing that makes her curious too, so Natasha diverts her attention from mixing the ingredients to looking at Bucky. He grins unabashedly. “Is that you trying to ask why _I_ didn’t decide to court her myself?” 

That catches Steve’s attention; truth be told, he had been wondering about this for a long time. If he could be easily attracted to Natasha in just two instances of meeting her, what more Bucky? Or rather, why _not_?

Rebecca merely smiles, shrugging. “I guess.”

Bucky glances at Natasha, meeting her gaze. “Honestly, it is because of a conversation that I overheard between you and Maria.”

The redhead arches an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. “She was asking you to consider dating again,” Bucky says slowly, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to be privy to a private conversation between the two best friends. Natasha doesn’t seem to mind though, instead, she looks on in curiosity, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “and you told her that, and I quote, it would take someone astonishingly good-hearted to thaw your ice cold heart.”

Natasha softens at that, remembering the conversation she had with Maria way before Bucky had asked her out for coffee. “And that would mean that you finding love again would be nearly impossible because you -” 

“- didn’t believe such a person exists.” She finishes his sentence for him with a small smile and a slight look of embarrassment in her expression. Bucky returns her smile with another casual shrug. “Naturally, I figured that someone must have scarred your heart really badly.”

Steve glances at the woman beside him, noticing her calm expression that doesn’t give much away. On instinct, he places an arm around her waist and pulls her into his side, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of her head which she smiles in gratitude. “Then I immediately thought of Steve, someone I know to be genuine in everything he does, the only man I know who loves with _every_ fibre of his being, a giver rather than a taker. And I thought to myself _hey, what if Steve is that ‘someone astonishingly good-hearted’ that may just thaw Natasha’s ice cold heart?”_

Steve turns a little pink at that praise, but Natasha simply looks up to gaze into his eyes. He sees it then, that look of ardent fondness she is giving him. He holds her gaze for a moment, already breaking into another smile before Natasha opens her mouth to speak again without breaking eye contact. “I guess you’re not wrong, James.”

What Steve sees, Bucky and the rest of the family _also_ see. And all of them couldn’t help the smiles gracing their faces as Winnifred hastily wipes the tears pooling in her eyelids away. When Natasha finally tears her gaze away from Steve to look at Bucky, he is already replying to her statement. 

“I’m always right, you know.” He jokes, and just like that, the atmosphere eases into laughter yet once again. Eventually, once the laughter fades, Natasha simply tells Bucky; “ _T_ _hank you_.”

* * *

In between baking gingerbread cookies and dinner, Natasha finds herself in one of Winnifred’s spare rooms which had ceremoniously turned into Steve’s bedroom over the holiday season. She’s still chuckling, both of them huddled in the connecting bathroom as Natasha tries her best to dust flour away from Steve’s hair and sweater.

“You remind me of Casper,” She states, face splitting into the widest grin.

“What, you mean from _Twilight_?” Steve blanches, quirking an eyebrow at her. She laughs while making a mental note that he looks impossibly _adorable_ being clueless like this, with specks of flour all over his face and hair. “I meant Casper the friendly _ghost_. And I’m quite sure you meant _Jasper._ ” 

He gives her a sheepish smile, bending a little so that it is easier for her to reach the top of his head. “ _So_ you’re a Twilight fan.”

Natasha just shakes her head in amusement, swiping her thumb over his cheekbone in an attempt to wipe the white away. Just because she feels like it, Natasha pulls Steve down to quickly plant a kiss on his lips. 

“You’re cute.” She states after that, noting that the tips of his ears had gone pink. “Did I ever tell you that?”

“No,” He grins. “but there’s plenty of time for firsts.”

Before Natasha could say something funny or retort to his statement, Steve wraps his arms around her back and pulls her into his embrace. Natasha yelps in minor disagreement, realising that some of the flour still on his sweater had landed on hers instead. But that feeling ebbs away in a blink of an eye when she catches Steve’s adoring gaze, small smile gracing his lips. “So...I’m _astonishingly good-hearted_ , huh?”

She rolls her eyes teasingly, mirroring the expression he is giving her. “Ehh, I guess you’re not so bad.”

Steve laughs at that response, his heart blooming. “Bucky’s stories got into you? Are you regretting this relationship now?”

In a normal situation, Natasha would have brushed that question aside with a joke - something between the lines of _yeah, I kinda am,_ but as she gazes into his eyes and sees genuine affection and love emitting from his blue irises, Natasha chooses instead to be truthful. She shakes her head firmly, giving him the warmest smile - one that reaches her eyes. 

Steve likes this look on her - serenity and warmness radiating from her every gesture, little or small. Happiness looks good on her.

“Never in this lifetime.” Natasha breathes out, her cheeks glowing with sincerity. As a response, Steve presses a firm kiss on her forehead, still smiling after he’d pulled back. “Sounds like a pledge to me. That’s another first.”

Natasha smiles. “Are you honoured?” 

He nods. “More than you could ever imagine.”

She caresses his cheeks gently, only tearing her eyes away from him to lean up into his ear. “I assume you are coming home with me tonight? Because if you’re up for it,” She pauses for effect, whispering sultrily, “we can pick up from where we left off the other day. Another _first_ to check off our list.”

Steve runs his hands down her arms, eventually resting on her hips. He leans down to reply; “Is that a flirtation or seduction?”

“It depends,” Natasha smirks. “on _where_ you want to end up in tonight.”

Hearing that is enough to send Steve’s imagination running straight through the roof. “Seduction.” He decides in a murmur, and to show Natasha his intention, slips one hand beneath her sweater. The sudden heat radiating from his fingertips against her hip is enough to make Natasha jump, and all she could think of is the desperation to feel his touch all over her skin. Her heart jitters at the mere thought alone, and Natasha tiptoes once more to kiss him urgently.

Then she whispers, “What if we don’t stay for dessert later?”

Natasha sees the answer in his eyes even before he says anything. Steve doesn’t miss a beat when he grins. “Sounds like a perfect plan.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still the Epilogue, hopefully it won't take too long a time but ah, IDK really. This may just be the last fic I'll be writing for some time before I feel like it again - sorry, I'm just really tired these days. I'm still reachable through twitter on @yelenat_ and tumblr @mingying though so if you just wanna talk, feel free to, I'll reply when I can. 
> 
> Thanks for reading/commenting!


	9. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of christmas miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is **Rated M** for the Smut in the first part. If you're not comfortable with that, skipping to the second part is okay too :)
> 
> Happy reading and thank you for following this fic even though it is overdue for a month+. I recently wrote a new oneshot called "a different hue" if you're interested! I still have a few ideas in my head that I want to execute so when I do, I'll post them up for sure.

Natasha barely bolts the door when Steve spins her around and presses her against the nearest wall, one hand cradling the back of her head as she tilts her head to meet his eager lips. Throughout dinner earlier and subsequently the ten minutes cab ride back to her place, Natasha had teased him endlessly; running a hand along his leg, brushing his inner thigh just enough to make him clench his jaw and dart helpless looks into her direction. She pretended not to notice, and it almost drove Steve insane as he channeled all his inner strength not to just pull her into his lap and kiss her senseless. 

Natasha lets out half a giggle when they pull apart for air. “You’re rather impatient.” She exhales breathlessly, managing to tease him with a quirk of an eyebrow. For a moment, Steve doesn’t reply. Instead, he trails sloppy kisses down her throat which Natasha hums approvingly, threading her hand through his hair in appreciation. 

“I wasn’t the one that was borderline encouraging public indecency earlier.” His reply comes seconds after, his chuckle reverberating against her skin and sending shivers down Natasha’s spine. She laughs, shutting her eyes to concentrate on the feeling of his lips on her skin, unprecedented warmth spiralling down her entire body. “But I know for a fact that _you_ enjoyed it.”

Steve pulls away, and Natasha nearly lets out a whine of disappointment at the sudden feeling of cold air hitting her neck. She opens her eyes with every intention to dart a glare at his direction, but that feeling fades away as Natasha watches Steve pulling his sweater over his head, dropping it aimlessly on the floor. She almost lets out a whistle just to tease him. “Well, someone’s _definitely_ eager.”

He grins boldly before stepping closer into her proximity again, reaching out to tug on the lower hem of her sweater. “This was the sweater Grandma Lucy knitted for you, right?” 

Natasha nods, one corner of her lips tugged upwards. He continues. “Is it terrible of me to say that I would much rather it be on the floor?”

Those words are enough for Natasha to mimic his action as she lets out a chuckle, stripping down to just her bra in a matter of seconds. She tosses her sweater beside Steve’s, winding her arms around his neck after that. When she catches how his eyes had darkened with desire, Natasha smirks again. “Like what you see, Rogers?”

“You already know I do.” He says, letting his fingers trail all around her body, watching her shiver in contentment before he cups one of her breasts - Natasha lets out a moan, and the sound sends heat straight into his core. Steve slips his hand beneath the cotton, all the while observing her reaction as Natasha’s eyes draw shut, mouth slightly agape as she swiftly unclasps her bra. She doesn’t need to say anything - Steve has an instinct on what she wants him to do, so he does exactly that, leaning forward to take her other mound into his mouth. 

Natasha gasps, feeling electricity down her spine as Steve nips and rolls her nipple with his tongue. His free hand is busy palming her other breast, and Natasha could feel the heat pooling in her center, goosebumps riding her arms in both desperation and innate desire. “ _Bed, now_.”

He lifts her easily, and she wraps her legs around his waist. She could feel his bulge against her, and Natasha is washed with this feeling of _want_ as she quickly directs him into her bedroom. When Steve settles her down onto her bed, he steps back to remove the rest of the articles on him - Natasha does the same, leaving only her panties on - that, she thinks, _Steve_ could do the honours of removing later. 

But before anything else could happen, Steve kisses her languidly, once, twice, before pulling away. He brushes stray tresses away from her eyes, gently tucking them behind her ear. Amidst the feeling of lust and desire, Natasha is left a little bit breathless at the way Steve is looking at her - with so much care and love in his eyes that it sends Natasha’s heart pounding. No one has ever looked at her this way before - it feels almost surreal, and Natasha finds herself wondering what she’d done to deserve this, to deserve _him._

“Nat?” Steve begins to ask, breaking her reverie. Instinct tells her that she knows what he wants to say, so Natasha decides that actions speak louder than words, pulling him in for another long, tentative kiss.

“You’re thinking too much.” Natasha tells him after she pulls apart, resting one hand against his chest, just where his heart thrums steadily beneath his skin. “I want this. I want _you_.”

Steve nods as a response, planting a kiss on her forehead before looking straight into her eyes again. “Tell me.” He exhales, then changes his choice of word. “ _Guide_ me.”

Natasha understands his words at once, and she feels the recurring flutter of her heart as warmth unfurls within her stomach. One glance is all it takes for her to know that Steve...he is adamant on doing this right - their first time together; he is taking this plunge with all the intention to satisfy her. Just the thought of how eager Steve is at pleasing her makes Natasha giddy with anticipation. She thinks of what she’d told Steve before, about how she gave and never received anything in return - is Steve doing this because of what she said before? She almost asks him right then, the words nearly tumbling out of her mouth. But she stops herself at the very last second, because when she looks at his earnest gaze, Natasha realises she already has her answer. Her heart swells with adoration and awe, almost melting into his eyes.

So she nods and says nothing else, because Steve is already searing their lips together again. He kisses her like he’s craving for her, passionate and intense, both of their hearts beating in unison. Natasha lets out a whimper when Steve starts to mouth the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, biting into the skin with every intention of leaving a mark there. He takes his time exploring the map of her body, listening to every little sound she makes, every little quiver, giving extra care and attention to parts of her body that had her breath hitching, or had her gasping and moaning. Eventually, Steve reaches her inner thighs, pulling her panties away swiftly while Natasha could barely think straight, her entire body aching with ardent desperation. “ _Steve_ ,” She gasps the second he buries his head in between her legs, licking a stripe up and tasting her eagerly. Natasha fists the bedsheet beneath her, holding onto it tightly while she mewls in utter pleasure. She could sense herself uncoiling, shivers spreading throughout her stomach, but before she reaches her peak, Steve comes back up to kiss her wantonly. She appreciates his gesture, she really does, but at that moment, all Natasha could think of is the desperate need to feel him inside her, for him to finish what he started. “Steve, I _need_ you.”

He merely nods, meeting her desirous eyes and planting another firm kiss on her lips. “Do you have-” 

She is already gesturing to her side table, without needing to hear his full sentence. Steve moves quickly, wasting no second. It gives Natasha time to catch a breath, her heart pounding wildly beneath her as she watches Steve roll the latex over himself. Her cheeks are already heating up just watching him spread her legs apart as he positions himself at her entrance. Their eyes meet again, and amidst all the haze of want and desire, Natasha manages to catch the message in his eyes - _let me know if it starts to get uncomfortable_. She nods, giving him a smile of encouragement before her eyes flutter shut in reflex as he enters into her slowly.

Natasha bit her lower lip, trying her best to stifle the sounds threatening to escape from the back of her throat. He’s doing it carefully and slowly, allowing her to adjust to his size until Natasha lets out this tiny sigh of contentment. Steve takes that as a sign to start moving, and when he begins to pick up a comfortable rhythm for the both of them, Natasha knows it is futile to suppress the whimpers coming out from her involuntarily. She lifts her hips to meet his deep thrusts, both drowning in each other’s sounds of pleasure as they both begin to quicken their pace. Natasha brings her hand to her center, rubbing circles around her bundle of nerves just as he leans down to kiss her just then, and the slightest change of angle nearly sends Natasha spiralling into a cloud of euphoria as she gasps into his mouth. “Steve, I’m close -”

He hums, covering one hand over her breast while the redhead’s breath hitches. All thoughts incoherent, Natasha knows it is only a matter of seconds before she unravels, and she quickly pulls Steve down again for another passionate, searing kiss. She comes undone first, her orgasm crashing like tidal waves into her entire being, washing down her spine in a satisfying, tingling sensation; the feeling intoxicating as Steve chases after his own release, her name falling from his lips repeatedly. He buries his face into the crook of her neck by reflex, heart still pounding erratically. “ _Nat,_ ”

Cheeks heated, Natasha’s eyes flutter open eventually as her breathing slowly falls into rhythm again. Still a little dazed, she snaps out of her reverie when she hears Steve chuckling into her skin. Tilting her head a little, she sees Steve raising his head to meet her gaze, and Natasha is immediately overwhelmed by giddy happiness, feeling a sense of comfort and security in the way Steve brackets her figure beneath him closely, almost protectively. She could feel herself blushing when he gives her this sort of smile and without saying anything, leans down to press their lips together. 

She sighs into his mouth in contentment and utter bliss, running one hand through his hair affectionately before resting it against the nape of his neck. Natasha returns his kiss in equal intensity, though languid and slow, like they have all the time in the world. When they break apart, her lips naturally curl upward. “Steve, I…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, merely resorting to continue smiling instead.

Steve whispers in her place, his voice a tease. “Was this worth skipping dessert for?”

Natasha laughs, placing her other hand against his chest and feeling the steady drumming of his heart. “That’s not a question you need an answer to.” She returns his tease with one of her own, though the implication leads only to one thought. But nonetheless, Steve gasps dramatically, going along with her teasing. “Guess I can’t compete with Winnifred’s chocolate brownies, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” She hums, face splitting into a grin. “I don’t know, but I believe there’s still time to make up for it.”

He gives her a knowing look, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Is that an invitation for another round later?” Steve catches the mischievous glint in her eyes even before he finished his sentence. Without warning, Natasha shifts swiftly, wrapping her legs around his torso before flipping him onto his back near effortlessly. It surprises him, eyes blown open widely at the sudden change of position. She’s straddling him now, still grinning as she leans closer into Steve. “Later?” She whispers right into his ear, and Steve nearly grunts in reflex. “I was thinking a lot faster than _later..._ but it really depends on you, which leads me to my next question...”

“Nat,” He groans, already knowing what is going through her mind from the way she starts to move her hips in a slow and lazy manner, almost carefully just in case he is still sensitive from his high earlier - his refractory period. Steve places his hands on her sides gently, holding onto her gaze of curiosity, the tinge of pink on her cheeks evident even under the warm, orange lights. He chuckles. “You _might_ just find out very soon.”

It is Natasha’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “ _Really_?” She asks, almost in amusement. “I was just joking, you know.”

“You should know by now,” Steve leans upwards to capture her lips quickly, catching her off guard. He doesn’t think he would ever get tired of seeing the sudden flush on her face when he catches her by surprise. “that I am absolutely crazy for you.”

Natasha blushes even harder, not saying anything as her eyes falter. On instinct, Steve tucks a hand under her chin so that he could lift her head up just a little. Their eyes meet once again, and he continues to look at her with a small smile on his lips. "You're beautiful, Natasha."

She responds by cupping his face between her palms lightly before closing the gap between them with a soft kiss. "I don't deserve you, Steve."

"Wrong." He says half a beat after, his tone firm. "You do, and I need you to know that you mean the entire world to me. I know we just met a little over a month ago, but...you truly are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Natasha."

Hearing those words from Steve, Natasha vaguely remembers uttering that sentence on the night she met Kate. Words that, at that moment and time, seemed only to be a facade, a play of pretence to get to Kate’s nerves. But now, Natasha has a feeling that they bear an entire different meaning and weightage - from words of pretend, they had transformed to that of truth and sincerity. Her heart flutters at that thought, of being someone as important as that in his life. 

She smiles, unsure of what to say. Natasha resorts to laying her head against his sturdy chest, listening closely to his heartbeat. In that brief silence, she almost hears their hearts beat in unison.

* * *

With the warm ambience filled with endless carolling and Christmas songs on the night of Christmas Eve, Steve takes Natasha to Rockefeller Center for a date. Hands intertwined, he watches the serene delight on her face as they walk past carollers singing loudly to their hearts content, filling the air with merriment. Natasha leans closer into his side, marvelling at the sight in front of her - something she has never truly appreciated until recently, until meeting him. It still feels surreal, if Natasha is to be honest with herself, how things have changed so drastically (in the best ways possible) over the span of one month.

They end up in front of the large Christmas tree, squeezing into an empty spot nearby while relishing in the sight of happy families and couples in their vicinity. Natasha turns to face Steve.

“You know,” She starts, “I haven’t even told Maria about us. Since she’s away on a holiday and...” She chuckles in amusement as Steve raises an eyebrow. “It’s just...I can’t believe this has happened to me.”

Steve smiles, pulling her closer into him. “I can say the same, Natasha. Meeting you and getting to know you were not what I expected to happen this Christmas.”

She holds his gaze, seeing the swirls of warmth and affection in those blue irises she’d fallen in love with. Natasha winds her hands around his neck, and forgets about her surroundings; at that moment, the lights dim away, the rest of the world fades into a noiseless background. “All because of your Christmas bucket list.” She smiles in fond memory of his suggestion that _really_ brought them together. “Which I really appreciate, by the way. It has made me realise and see things I otherwise wouldn’t so...thank you, Steve.”

“Does that mean you like Christmas now?” Steve grins, brushing a stray hair from her eyes. Natasha mirrors his expression, bringing one hand to cover over his. “How could I not, after all that has happened?” She tells him softly. 

Comfortable silence breaches over them in that moment, until Natasha watches Steve’s expression softening. She quirks an eyebrow slightly in reflex, a sign which prompts him to say something running in his mind.

“I distinctly remember that one of the items in your list is to witness a Christmas miracle.” Steve muses, looking rather apologetic for some reason. 

Natasha simply nods. “And it did happen, with James waking up.” Her smile turns into a frown when she sees Steve’s slightly fallen expression. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s silly, really.” Steve admits slowly, remembering words from weeks back. “But you didn’t get to experience a miracle in your own terms. Bucky waking up was mine, wasn’t it?”

Naturally, Natasha eases her expression back into a soft smile. She steps even closer into Steve’s proximity, bringing her hand to cup his face gently. “But I did experience it.” She whispers, her voice gentle and filled with nothing but genuine adoration. Steve’s forehead creases just a little, and Natasha takes that as her cue to continue her sentence. “I learned to trust again, to open my heart. I gained new friends, a family. I gained love. And most importantly,” She exhales in contentment, her heart light and merry. “I gained you. Those to me, are the best Christmas miracles I could ever ask for.”

Steve’s heart begins to race. He feels warmth unfurling in his stomach, her words resonating in the deepest recesses of his mind; those miracles in December that she got to experience because of him. He presses his lips on the crown of her head, pure joy rising within him. “Nat?”

“Hmm?” She hums, tilting her head to the side. 

“Can I kiss you in,” He glances at his watch quickly. “two minutes?”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s Christmas, Rogers, not New Year’s.”

“Details, details.” Steve gives her a lopsided grin that once again sends her heart fluttering. “So can I?”

She pretends to think hard, putting on a slight frown. “What if I say no?”

“You wouldn’t.” He says confidently.

“I just might.” She counters easily.

“ _Natasha_ ,” Steve looks completely flabbergasted while the redhead dissolves into fits of laughter. In that moment, he sees only her, the way her cheeks seem to glow in mirth, her eyes smiling at him, sincere joy radiating from her entire being. He truly loves this look of childlike happiness on her. 

At the stroke of midnight, Natasha tiptoes eventually, encircling her arms around his neck once again before pressing her lips against his - a direct answer to his permission earlier. “Merry Christmas, Steve.” She says after breaking their kiss. He tightens his grasp around her back, pulling her even closer into him. He smiles, leaning down to kiss her again, and again, and again. “Merry Christmas, Natasha.”

“Steve,” She takes a deep breath, butterflies scurrying into her stomach. Natasha is nervous, but in the best way possible. She tells him, words she knows to be true and from her heart, careful words she is finally ready to utter, reserved only for him to hear. 

“I love you.”

Steve’s face lights up at once, an awed, dreamy smile gracing his lips. “You love me,” He repeats, needing just a bit more time to grasp the fact that Natasha had just expressed her feelings to him. Steve knows just how important those three words mean to her, and his heart flutters at the thought of how privileged he is to be able to hear them from her.

“I do,” Natasha simply smiles, her face calm and serene. “There’s no one else deserving to hear that but you.”

Silence lapses between them as Steve laces their fingers together. He brings their intertwined hands to rest against his chest, just right above his heart; a gesture of some sort, Natasha believes. She thinks of what he’d told her after their first night together, about how she is his everything. Those sincere words uttered by Steve Rogers that had struck a chord within her. 

“Thank you, Steve.” Natasha whispers eventually.

“Whatever for?” Steve asks in mild curiosity. 

She shakes her head once, still smiling. There’s so many things Natasha wants to thank him for, things about him she is grateful to be able to experience. But in the end she settles for the simplest response, one that started this entire cosmic arrangement from the universe. “For being that ‘ _astonishingly good-hearted_ ’ person that thawed my ice cold heart.”

* * *

  
  


**THE END**


End file.
